


I Like That Kick In The Face

by mjstark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Confused Steve Rogers, First Dates, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Humor, I tried not to make it crack, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Love/Hate, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Swearing, Tony Being Tony, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, because I'm a failure who doesn't give a single shit, but are also in love so, it slips into crack, literally what is going on, they kind of hate each other, tony stark is a little shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-02-22 21:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13175544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjstark/pseuds/mjstark
Summary: Steve finds Tony asleep on a dinosaur while he's working night shifts at the museum.From there, it's only chaos.Read for a dysfunctional, confusing, but somewhat fun SteveTony relationship in which neither of them ever seem to get anything right, ever.





	1. Chapter 1

Working night shifts at a museum had always been the most universally boring job ever. Not even the exhibits were interesting anymore, although Steve did now have a more expanded knowledge of natural history than the average, non-museum security guard. 

So, all things considered, this may be the first interesting thing he’s seen since there was a raccoon in the staff bathroom. 

There was a kid in the dinosaur section. Genuinely, literally, actually lying there on an iguanodon. He was on the tail, cheek squished up with his arms hanging on either side. For some reason, Steve found himself staring and not doing anything. The sleeping boy was actually fairly easy to miss, despite the obviousness of his predicament. He was quite small, dark hair, skin and clothes blended in with the dark background. His face was relaxed, but his thick eyebrows were slightly scrunched. He was quite cute. 

He sent a photo to Bucky, then coughed.

Nothing happened.

When Steve coughed again, louder, and still nothing happened, he sighed and shoved the kid off the tail of a dinosaur. He woke up with a “fuck” when he hit the ground, and shot a dirty look at Steve before it was clouded with confusion. He smelled faintly of alcohol, which explained a lot.

“Where-“  
  
“Museum.”

“What-“

“2 AM”

“Why-“

“Drunk.”

“Who-“

“Steve. Security guard.” Steve tapped his badge and the kid just sat up and shook his head. When he stretched, Steve decidedly did not look at his exposed stomach, even though it was tanned and muscled and pretty. He distracted himself by making it his turn for the 20 questions.

“How ol-“

“17”

“What’s y-“

“Tony.” 

Tony stood up and brushed himself off, rubbed his nose, looked around, and then met Steve’s eyes. He held an air of confidence that Steve wouldn’t expect from a drunk kid who’s woken up in a strange place. 

“It took you until 2 AM to notice someone asleep on a fucking dinosaur?” Tony laughed, walking past Steve. He vaulted the barrier and turned expectantly to look at him with big, dark eyes.

“You’re not very big, to be fair” Steve smiled slightly at the indignant glint that showed itself in his eyes. 

“I’m not small.” Steve didn’t respond, just looked disbelievingly at him. Tony huffed “Fine. But I’m big where it counts, Blondie.” 

In Steve’s moment of shock, the boy seemingly got distracted and began wandering up down the hall. 

“Hey, kid, wait!” He ran out of the scenic jungle after him, grabbing his flashlight for the dark corridors. It turns out he turned with way too much momentum, as Tony had stopped walking to face him again. His arms were folded and he’d raised an eyebrow at him.

“Kid? Really?”

“What? You are!” Steve should’ve been fed up, but really he was just glad for a distraction. A very dark and handsome distraction.

“Okay, so I’m not, like, 30 or however old you are but I-“

“30!” Steve’s voice went so high pitched that Tony huffed out a laugh as he nodded. He turned again and continued his journey down the hall, leaving Steve spluttering and trailing after him.

“I’m 21! I don’t- I don’t- I don’t look… Not- I- 30? Really? Do I- No. No. I don’t… Do I? 30?” 

He rounded the corner and found Tony at the reception desk already, feet up on the stacks of paper and leaning back. Steve was struck out of his shock and offense driven stupor when he pulls out a pack of cigarettes. 

“Hey, you can’t smoke in here!” Tony barely spares him a glance but does smile.

“Relax, buttercup. Pretty sure you can’t sleep in here either.” And yeah, okay, fair point, but Steve still doesn’t like it, so he takes it out of his mouth anyway.  Tony looks around with casual boredom and Steve tries not to stare at his pretty face as tells him he’s going to go get some coffee, so not to go to sleep on any more exhibits while he’s gone.

Turns out, leaving Tony was a huge mistake. Within a few minutes, the lights start flashing on and off at full brightness and deafening music starts playing from the loudspeakers. When he gets back, Tony is gone and there’s a note on the desk reading ‘hide and seek. if u cant find me in the next twenty minutes im pulling fire alarm’ with a little smiley face in the corner.

Okay, so this wasn’t the quiet night Steve had planned, but he was never one to back down from a challenge, particularly one that meant he’d get fired if he lost. Besides, he could just check the CCTV feed.

Except, he couldn’t because apparently Tony the Dinosaur Guy was some genius hacker who had made it so that instead of live feed footage, it played some Rick Astley song. This guy was gonna _get it._

Steve searched every room about 8 times, but the flashing lights made it real hard and calling his name did scrap all with the music. Who was this kid anyway? He definitely should have just kicked him straight out. What kind of-

“Tony fucking STARK!” Steve realized loudly. Tony Fucking Stark. Of course it was. He knew he’d recognized him, how could it have taken him so long? That guy was in the news every stupid day for doing things just like this. Steve should probably have drug tested him or something, God only knowing what stuff Tony fucking Stark was on.

“Good solve, Rogers.” A smug voice said from above him. The music immediately cut out and the lights stopped flashing. Steve looked up angrily, somehow not even surprised. “You’re pretty cute from an aerial view, y’know.”

“Get down from there, Tony.” 

“Yes, Sir” He obediently jumped down, landing inches in front of Steve and straightening up to face him. God, that smirk was so attractive. Who has teeth that straight? Or white? Who has eyelashes that long? Guy looks like he wears mascara or whatever. 

“Done staring? Gonna catch fucking flies, sweetheart.” 

“How did you know my last name?” Steve blurted, hoping to distract him, but all he got was a look that told him he was an idiot and a finger tapping his name badge. “Oh.” 

“So what’s there to do around here? Any more hot blonds I can play with?” Tony cast a look around before looking right into Steve’s eyes. His voice was low and teasing and Steve was waging the most intense internal battle ever because holy hell this guy was hot and yeah, okay, Steve may have gotten off _one time_ to one of his leaked sex tapes and also it’s _Tony Fucking Stark_ but also, on the other hand, he was working and he was like 4 years older and it was weird and Why Was Steve Thinking About This Anyway.  

 

Steve shook himself back to the present, realizing way too late that Tony was in some neanderthal exhibit and about to light up again. If there was smoke then there was an alarm, and if there was an alarm then Steve was fired. So Steve was running towards him, and his heart rate was up and apparently he couldn’t behave normally around this guy so he was diving at him and thinking, hey, this is a trap, because now he was on top of him and he was smirking and fuck it, he had to get rid of that smug look somehow and kissing it seemed like the only viable option. So he kissed him, and he was kissing back and also maybe laughing and he had definitely won this time but who cares, because he was kissing Tony Fucking Stark and Tony Fucking Stark is a damn good kisser.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

“Let me get this straight, you not only had sex on the job, and you not only had sex on the job in a neanderthal exhibit, but you had sex on the job in a neanderthal exhibit with Tony Fucking Stark? Is he even legal?” 

“When you say it like that it sounds real bad. And It’s his 18th birthday tomorrow so I’m calling it totally legal.” 

“AS WELL AS THAT” Sam cut straight through, ignoring him completely. “You’re going on a _date_ with him? A date with Tony Fucking Stark.” 

“Y’know I don’t think ‘fucking’ is his middle name” Steve pointed out, though it may as well be, he thought, also ignoring the fact that he definitely referred to him as Tony Fucking Stark in his head because, well, its _Tony Fucking Stark_ “And I don’t think going to his 18th birthday party is a date, considering he said I could ‘bring my friends if I had any’ and it’s Tony Fucking Stark so his birthday is gonna be, like, massive. Most dates don’t have that.”

“You think Stark is ‘most guys’ though? Definitely a date.”

“Bucky, it’s not a date. You think Tony Fucking Stark goes on dates?”

“How did he even get into the museum anyway? Doesn’t strike me as a museum kind of guy."

“Doesn’t matter. More importantly, was he good?” 

“Good question. How was he?"

“Ooh, yeah. Steve, on a scale of 1 to 10, how old was he?” 

Steve shot Bucky a strongly disapproving look, but moved past it because he’d wanted to talk about it since Tony had left because-

“God it was so good.” He slammed his head into the table with the memory. “ _Fuck,_ you guys. It was amazing.”

“Do we, uh, need to give you a minute?” Bucky laughed and Steve smacked him without lifting his head up. 

“That good, huh?” 

“Sam, you have no idea. Mostly because you’re a virgin, but also because there is no one, and I _mean_ no one, in the _world_ who fucks like Tony Fucking Stark.” 

“Hey! I’m not a-“

“So what’s the heel?”

“What?”

“Achilles heel. There’s always one thing. _Always_. What is it? Hairy ass? Too much teeth? Pinches you or something?” 

“Natasha, last night I had the most mind-blowing sex of all time. Ever. In all of the universe. I think I’m still orgasming a little. There was no heel. There is no heel. There will never be a heel. The heel is that I’m not still having sex with him right now.”

“Okay, okay. We get it, he’s good. It’s probably all the drugs he’s on. Probably squirted some into ya. Are we going to his party tomorrow or what?” 

“Sam, if you think I’m missing what is probably going to be the party of the century, you are so sorely mistaken. That guy is so rich I bet even his booze is designer. Stevie, I am so glad you got yourself fucking laid.” 

“Wait you guys, are we sure we want Steve mixed up with this guy?” Steve looked up indignantly.

“I’m not a child, Nat-“

“Steve, she’s got a point. That kid was messed up even before his parents died.”

“Yeah man, he’s not exactly stable. Do you remember that one time he appeared with a girl more than once and everyone was so shocked it made front page? My fucking college professor mentioned it in class. That’s how outrageous it was.” 

“Okay, first of all, you’re all the biggest exaggerators ever. Second of all, it’s none of you guys’ business. Third, the party is going to be fucking amazing and I want to go, Tony or no Tony.  And fourth, ” Steve glared at them, hoping it would cover the dishonesty in his words. He wanted to see Tony. Not _just_ because he wanted that pretty mouth around his cock again. “This isn’t some chick flick movie, I can handle myself.”

The others looked wary for a second, before giving in. Obviously deciding that, okay, that party was way more important than Steve’s potential emotional destruction.

 

___

 

It was. This party would put every party ever thrown by the Great Gatsby to shame. 

“Does this guy live here by him-fucking-self?” Bucky asked in pure wonder.  The house was massive and beautiful. Expensive cars were driving past them, tops down with about 8 people too many in each one, laughing and screaming. ‘Everyone was there. Really, everyone. From every walk of life, from every corner of New York City. This kaleidoscopic carnival spilled through Stark’s door.’  The party was magnificent and lavish, and Steve was overwhelmed with the grandeur, so he did what anyone else would do and grabbed a drink.

For a while, he just gets lost in having a good time. Which, if he was being honest, almost never happens. Steve wasn’t really a party guy, he only ever went to hang out with his friends but this time he’d lost them all about an hour ago and was still having a good time. He hadn’t properly seen Tony yet, but heard people saying things like ‘did you see what Stark just did…’ and ‘he's absolutely mental, did you see him earlier…’ and Steve had asked about him but never gotten a good answer, only giggles.

“Steve!” At his name, he whirled around and crashed straight into Sam. “Where you been, man? You have got to see this. It’s fucking crazy. Crazy. We’re in the Upside Down for fuck's sake.”

Steve had no idea what he was on about but followed him anyway. He was led through a load of rooms filled with people, past a pool, and into a big room. Right in the middle of a screaming and laughing crowd, was Tony Fucking Stark, but that was nowhere near the weirdest thing.

Natasha was there. 

 

Floating. 

 

She had some weird kind of red metal gloves on, palms down, shooting out yellow light that appeared to be keeping her in the air. Each of her feet was on one of Stark’s hands. He was wandering around and laughing a beautiful, if slightly mad, laugh while keeping Natasha, who was also laughing, balanced on his hands. 

Steve wasn’t sure what was weirder: Natasha scream-giggling, Natasha liking someone that she had just met, Natasha trusting someone that she had just met, or the fact that she was there, in a cute little black dress and heels, _floating_ and it seemed to be because of something Tony Fucking Stark had created _._

She noticed him then, and called out to him, causing Tony to turn as well and grin. Steve and Sam began pushing through the staring/cheering crowd when Tony moved his hands and called up to her to ‘power down’ and she fucking did. She fucking fell straight down and landed on Tony Fucking Stark’s shoulders. Where she _laughed again_.

Sam was right. This was the Upside Down.

“I love this guy! I fucking this guy, Steve! It’s Tony Fucking Stark!” Natasha was pointing at Tony from above, yelling over the sound of the music. Then she and Tony stuck both their fists in the air, making peace signs, and everyone cheered again. Faintly, he heard Sam take a picture. Natasha would later make that her Facebook profile picture.

“I love you too, red,” Tony said, either in a cute nick-name way or because he couldn’t remember Natasha’s name. He turned to Steve, “I’m glad you made it,”

If Steve didn’t know better, he would’ve sworn it was genuine. 

___

 

 

Steve learned a few things that night.

 

1)  Tony Stark threw one hell of a party.

2)  Tony Stark was the only person capable of winning over Natasha Romanoff.

3)  Tony Stark _was_ capable and far more than willing to screw the same person twice. (If that person was Steve Rogers)

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

The next morning, Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Natasha sat in Denny’s. It was 6 AM, and the only reason they were up so early is because they’d only just left the party about an hour ago and were yet to go home. 

“So you got laid again?” Bucky asked, but it wasn’t really a question at all.

“That obvious?"

“You’re practically glowing”

“It’s because-“

“WE KNOW!” They all shouted at once, before all wincing at once.

“Jeez, I was just saying.”

“Just saying. Just saying. Just saying 8 million times. It’s because he’s amazing. Tony Stark is the best fuck ever. The best fuck to ever have fucked. We know! Damn it, Steve you talked about it so much yesterday it feels like we’ve _all_ fucked Tony Stark.” They were a little grouchy and a little hungover, but at the same time still riding the high of the party.

“Fine! No need to be so grumpy about it. You’re all just jealous because _you_ didn’t get to fuck him.” Steve pretends he doesn’t see Natasha nod out of the corner of his eye and for a few minutes, there’s beautiful silence. Until he opens his mouth again.

“I got his number.” 

  
“WHAT!” More shouting, more wincing.

“You’re joking.”

“Tony Fucking Stark gave _you_ his number?” 

“Hey! I’m not that bad.”

“Clearly. You must be okay if Stark wants a third round.”

“Maybe,” Steve glared, “maybe he just wants to get to know me!”

The others were silent for a slow beat before Sam and Bucky started laughing so hard they were actually grasping at each other for support. Even Natasha smiled a bit. Steve just huffed.

“When you pick him up for your date, are you going to wait at his bus stop or get him straight from school?” Steve didn’t respond to that even to point out that they all knew Stark had graduated MIT a year ago and probably skipped the entire high school part of life. 

“Make it a Friday or a Saturday man, his mom’ll kill him if he’s out past curfew on a school night,” Potentially a low blow, considering the guy’s mom was dead, but Steve let it slide.

“Hey, take it easy on him, boys. It’s hard for him, okay? You know what the hardest part of dating a younger guy is?”

“What?”

“Fitting in.” Natasha’s face remained deadpan as Sam and Bucky lost it and Steve sulked further into his seat.

“Look, man, really. We support you. If that means you wanna start shopping in that age range then that’s okay. Just give us some time, we’ll get you a white van, we’ll get you a stained tank top, the works. You can live out your dream.” Steve really was considering punching them but forced the feeling away by shoveling food into his mouth as quickly as possible.

“Guys! He’s old enough! You know the rules. If he’s old enough to count then he’s old enough to mount, aye Stevie?” Bucky only received a shove in response.

“We’re just teasing, man. Don’t worry about it. That guy’s been hoe-ing since before _we_ were,” Sam meant it to be reassuring, but it was actually a pretty nauseating truth.

“You gonna text him?” Natasha asked him seriously. He nodded, then doubted himself, then nodded again, before shaking his head. “Maybe give it a week.”

As Steve was leaving, he heard Sam yell. 

“Oh my God! _Steve_ is the dinosaur he’ll be sleeping on this time!” 

___ 

 

 

 

Steve went home and to bed, where he didn’t sleep. Instead, he thought about Tony Fucking Stark.

That night in the exhibit had been the best sex Steve had ever had, probably ever would again. At the party, admittedly, they hadn’t fucked at all, but Tony had kissed him and pushed him into a closet to tell him again that he was glad he had come to the party. Then he showed him how glad he was by sucking Steve’s dick like a goddamn professional. Steve hadn’t gotten the chance to return the favor or even get himself together before Tony had smiled at him, written his phone number on Steve’s arm and rejoined the party. 

Steve looked at the writing on his arm now. Spiky, scrawled handwriting in black ink that read ‘neander-call me sometime ;)’

It was awful - possibly the worst joke he’d ever seen, but in Tony’s defense, they’d both been a little drunk.

He was going to wait a week before texting him. He could make it a week. 

 

___ 

 

That week was the longest damn week of his life. Every minute of every day was a countdown. The moment had finally come. At long last. 

He had no idea what to say. Hey? Hi? Hello? Does he say its Steve? Steve Rogers? Steve Rogers from the Night Security at the museum? 

 

‘Hey hi hello it is Steve Rogers from the museum night security you gave me the best blowjob of my life and also your number.’ Perfect.

 

He called Natasha. 

He sent ‘Hey Tony it’s Steve Rogers. You gave me your number last week?’ 

 

Then he cried.

At 4 AM, he received his reply but all it said was ’my favorite security guard’. What do you reply to that? Thanks? You’re my favorite security guard too? How many security guards did Tony know?

‘Glad you remember me’

‘hey i dont give my number to just every hot blond I meet’

‘Yeah, well. This is a first for me too.’

‘with anyone?’

‘With a billionaire.’

‘ur in for a ride, soldier boy’ 

 

Okay, so this was definitely flirting. Steve stared at the wall. How could he make this go from casual flirting to Steve managing to take this guy out for a date. 

‘Want to prove it?’ Now it just sounded like a booty call. Do people use proper grammar in a booty call?

‘draw me a window’ What the hell does that mean. Is it like… throw me a bone? Tony was basically asking Steve to ask him on a date. Or maybe he was saying come over for sex. Maybe he just wanted a picture of a window. What the fuck does that mean?

‘Are you free tonight?’ Now it was back to Tony. He can decide if it’s a date or not.

Tony didn’t reply for a minute or two and Steve started sweating.

 

Stupid Tony Fucking Stark with his bad fucking text grammar.

 

‘sure. urs or mine?’ So it was a booty call. That’s okay. Steve can still salvage this.

‘I’ll pick you up from yours at 7.’ Yes. Steve and his gentlemanliness will win. 

‘like a date?’ Apparently Tony Stark had no idea what a date was.

‘Yeah. Can you cope with that?’

‘guess we’ll see. im @ stark tower all day. later rogers.’ 

 

 

Steve wanted to cry. He spent the whole day at work thinking about what to do. Where was he gonna go? What was he gonna wear? Say? Tony Fucking Stark has seen a million places and a million things and a million people. What did Steve Rogers have to offer him? 

 

“Would you relax? It’s just a date. You’re a grown ass man. You’re not 15, Steve, even if he is-“ Bucky cut off at the glare he received. “Okay, okay. It’ll be fine. Make it casual and regular. Kid’s probably never had a normal night in his life. It’ll be refreshing for him.” 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Standing in front of the massive tower, Steve swallowed. Around him, people looking all sorts of official busied around doing all sorts of official things. Steve took a deep breath. He felt so out of place, stood there in a white shirt with a simple, thin black tie. (Also his coat. It was winter, damn it. He wasn’t stupid). Definitely the only person here in jeans. 

That is, until he saw Tony. He stumbled in the door in dirty (tight) blue jeans and a black t-shirt, and he was covered in… oil? When he saw Steve, he pulled the sunglasses of his face. It was evening time. Who needs sunglasses?

“Oh shit. I’m late aren’t I?” He darted forward, grabbing Steve’s hand and pulling him into the elevator. Steve found himself suddenly heart-wrenchingly happy he didn’t bring the flowers he thought about. Tony pressed the top floor button. “What time is it? I got caught up in some shit. Nice one, Stark. Jesus. Trust me to be late to the only date I’ve ever-“

“What?” Steve burst out before he could stop himself. The doors opened.

“What?” Tony stepped out into a massive penthouse. Steve just stared in shock, half at the massive apartment-type-thing and half at the fact that-

“Your first ever date? Ever?” Tony was halfway across the room when he turned around to look at Steve.

“Uh, yeah. I’m a date virgin. Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna go get dressed. Drinks in the kitchen.” He disappeared around a corner, leaving Steve to awkwardly wander around in a glamorous apartment with a beautiful New York skyline. How many 18-year-olds get this view, huh? Steve wondered if Tony lived alone. More importantly, how many 18-year-olds have never been on a date? When they were _that_ hot? Just in case the pressure of taking Tony Fucking Stark out wasn’t bad enough. 

 

Steve paced in stress. The penthouse didn’t look like it was decorated or lived in by an 18-year-old dude, except for the bottles and cans lying around. It had a casual mess, but the place looked like it was regularly cleaned. 

He tried to keep to himself, but he couldn’t help it. Curiosity was Steve’s middle name, the way Tony’s was probably ‘fucking’. 

He went into the kitchen. There was nothing on the counter except for a few coffee cups, some beer cans, and a pizza box, but they were all near the door as if someone had carried them in and ditched them. In the cupboards, there was nothing. Like, there was cups and plates and shit but no food. Bags of coffee and a wide variety of expensive booze, yeah, and maybe one bag of chips, but nothing else. Nothing! Steve wondered if he should be worried. 

Out in the living room, there was basically nothing. It looked totally un-lived in. It smelled clean. A few magazines, a few books. It was like a hotel lobby. Steve dug around more, determined to find something (anything) that reflected some of that Stark personality. Or any personality. There were no pictures or plants or posters. Big ass TV though.

Steve opened a wardrobe door and hit the jackpot. It was actually a small room, filled with shelves upon shelves. The floor was littered with boxes, too. On one half of the room, the shelves were full of vinyl records. Millions of them. The other half was just as many DVDs. He reached out to look at some of the boxes of records. Each box was labeled with one or sometimes two artists. Radiohead, Black Sabbath, Bowie, Johnny Cash, The Cure, The Rolling Stones, Presley, Stevie Wonder, Jackson, Janis Joplin, Nirvana, Madonna, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, ACDC. The lists went on and on. Steve took some out of the boxes occasionally, looking over the covers. This collection must be worth a fortune.

 

“Find anything you like?” The voice behind him made Steve jump a foot out of his skin. Tony was behind him, hair suddenly neatly styled. He was dressed and ready, wearing a black button-down shirt and much cleaner black jeans. He smelled so good.

“Tony! I was just-“

“Being nosy?” Steve shifted awkwardly. Tony just laughed. His breath was minty, “Don’t worry. I don’t care. Curiosity wins.” 

He walked away from the closet of media and Steve followed instinctively, silently appreciating the tight fit and dark colors of Tony's clothes. 

“We going right now? Do you want a drink or something?” Steve forced his eyes away from Tony’s retreating ass and searched his brain for an answer. _You can’t even legally drink,_ he thought.

“Uh, yeah. Reservations.” Suddenly, just dinner seemed like a terrible idea. This was Tony’s first ever date and he was going to take him to dinner? It wasn’t even fancy!

“Cool. Where? Want me to drive?” Tony was picking up a black coat and walking him to the elevator again. When they were inside, no one pressed a button.

“Actually, uh, I thought we could walk. It’s not far from here” Oh no, he thought, belatedly. He was going to make Tony Fucking Stark walk to his first ever date. Why did he think this was a good idea. “Because y’know. I’m taking you on a date. It’d be weird if I made you drive.”

Were things awkward right now? Steve couldn’t tell. He was sweating a bit, but he was kind of a sweaty person. Fuck. Tony Fucking Stark’s first ever date was going to be with a sweaty, awkward creep who looked in his closet on the first date.

“I’ll take your word for it. How should I know the procedure.” Tony pressed the ground floor button and the elevator went down. “Can I know where we’re going? Or is it Top Secret Stuff?” 

 

Steve was once again realizing how small Tony was, only coming up to about his shoulder. Just above if you count the hair. 

“I’m not that small,” Steve balked.

“What? How did you-“

“You had that look.” Tony looked up at him, “I’m not that small, you’re just massive.” 

“You’re _kind of_ sm-“

“No.” 

 

When they got back out onto the street, it was fully dark. Tony was talking and Steve was so busy laughing that he barely noticed the flash a few meters away. Tony sighed almost inaudibly, explaining that some pap had taken their picture. 

 

 

They had almost completed their humble walk down to the restaurant Steve had spent two hours deciding on when he came to another realization. 

Tony Stark was difficult as fuck. Everything they talked about became a weird sort of part-joke part-argument part-battle-of-wits and Steve was struggling to keep up. Tony had an answer to everything, a biting reply or joke or whatever for every single sentence and yet he said everything with a smile. He was confusing and Steve loved it. 

He was also a cocky son of a bitch, though.

“So you have a crush on me?” 

“Who said that?” Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

“You! You asked me on a date and you got all nervous!” Tony spun around so he was walking backward and facing Steve. “You’re totally interested.”

“Maybe I’m just in it for the money,” Tony grinned at him, half of his mouth turning up.

“Nah. People who are in it for the money are much nicer to me.”

“Hey! I’m nice!”

“Yeah, Steve, you’re _nice_ nice. As in actually nice. Creepily nice, if you ask me, but y’know. _I_ had to come on to _you_ , you were all awkward and stuff.” Steve opened his mouth to argue, but Tony plowed on. “You thought I was hot before you realized I’m Tony Fucking Stark.” 

“Does you being Tony Fucking Stark usually have much to do with it?” 

“Of course it does, Steve. I _’m Tony Fucking Stark_. What else has anyone got to compete with that?” 

“Humility?” Steve asked innocently. Tony laughed and it was low, rumbly. Then he turned to walk next to him again until they finally turned onto the street with the restaurant on and Steve put a hand on Tony’s lower back to guide him in. He kept it there for a few seconds after they entered into the warmth. 

 

“Hope you like Italian.”  Steve muttered, rubbing his hands together.

“Stai scherzando? La mia prima parola era la ‘pizza’.” 

Steve looked at him blankly.

 

“What.”

 

“Yeah. I love Italian.” Was the only response he got. Steve told his name to the guy and he showed them to their seats.

“You speak Italian?” They were right by the window, with a view of the beautiful graffiti on the wall opposite. It was of a big ass squid, but it was pretty.

“I am Italian. Or my mother was.” Tony shrugged. They both thanked the waiter and Steve ordered  a kind of wine that he had also spent a good hour researching. Tony raised an eyebrow at his choice, apparently impressed.

“Any other languages I should know about?” 

“Mm” Tony nodded vaguely, looking at the menu. Steve waited patiently. “Russian, French.  A bit of Japanese. Some middle eastern languages but they’re not my strong suit. Mandarin. German. I also have a made up language from combined electrical engineering symbols and the Mayan numbering systems. I use that when I’m designing, it’s quicker than-“

“What the fuck.” 

Tony smirked.

“Language, Rogers.” Tony had pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and was leaning his head in his hand, eyes still lazily scanning the menu. A lock of dark hair had fallen out of place and hung down over his forehead.

“How did you even-“

“Hey, rich kid, remember? I had everything possible jammed down my throat. Never forgot ‘em really.” Steve thought as hard as he could, but he couldn’t remember a damn thing from any of his French classes. “More importantly, Steve, I’ve never been here before. What should I have? Are there rules? Have we gotta share a plate of spaghetti and accidentally eat the same noodle?” 

“Uh, no. Not usually. We can do that if you want? I can take a tramp out for dinner.” 

“What? No way. You’re Tramp.” Steve leaned back, mock offended. “You are! You’re the one taking me to dinner. I gotta big ass house, too.”

“Nope. You’re Tramp. You’ve even got darker hair! Tramp had a whole load of other girls goin’, remember? That’s your rep!”

“Point. But I still got the cash, man. Lady was fucking loaded.”

“The first time I saw you, you were asleep in a public place. The Lady also had close personal friends! Tramp was like some lone-wolf kind of shit.”

“Low blow. First of all, is it ‘personal’ if they’re dogs? It’s not relevant I just think the implied ‘person’ in ‘personal’ friend is kinda undermined by the fact that they’re dogs. I don’t know. SECOND of all, I could totally have close personal friends.” Steve wondered if he had gone too far, but the words were laced with laughter.

“Name one.” Tony blinked.

“Fine. Fine. You got this one. I’m the fucking Tramp.”

“You gonna teach me how to live ‘footloose and collar-free’?” Steve asked and Tony chuckled again, kind enough not to ask why Steve knew an actual quote.”

“Maybe. Maybe. Y’know, we got it all wrong.” 

He was going to ask what he meant by that, but the waitress came. Tony seemed to effortlessly charm her until she was smiling brightly at the two of them, then he ordered pasta and Steve got a pizza. With pineapple. Tony shot him a look but didn’t comment. After the waitress had left, Steve turned back to him.

“What did we get all wrong?” 

“This. In the old days, all the rich aristos had super dull lives and that’s why they fell for such wack-jobs. Like, uh. I don’t know. Cinderella. Why would the prince chase after the bitch that ran off at 12 and left a fucking shoe? She had, like, mice for horses. Also the lady and the tramp. Fucking Lady was so bored that she went with him. We got it all wrong.” Tony gestured wildly as he spoke, glass of wine sloshing around. “Now, rich people are all kinds of messed up.”

“So…” Steve started slowly, sipping his wine and digesting a little of the junk Tony spews. “Do you think I asked you out _because_ you’re a nut job or in spite of that?”

Tony seemed to think for a moment, eyes not looking away from Steve’s before he smiled. “I don’t care.” 

 

 

 

All in all, everything was going great. Steve could barely take his eyes off Tony. He was fucking beautiful? He was so… expressive. Not just his hands, but his eyes and his mouth and his eyebrows, god. His eyebrows were ridiculously mobile. So much charisma and feeling was conveyed through his movements and his voice and his stupid pretty face that it was all Steve could do to watch.

Steve had finished his pizza now. Things were going so smoothly he couldn’t even imagine why he had been worried before. Tony had made him laugh so loudly that the whole restaurant seemed to stop and look for a second. He’d spat out his wine, once, from laughing and he was certain some had come out of his nose. Meanwhile, Tony was laughing too. Steve learned that Tony Fucking Stark can (and did) giggle, though would deny it. It definitely happened, though. He couldn’t even remember what it was he’d said. He could probably actually recount very little of their conversation. Things with Tony seemed to flow too fast to do anything but go with it. 

The few bottles of wine they’d finished off had… only a little to do with it. 

“Look, Tony. I know this is your first date. I gotta, I’m sorry it was just dinner. If I’d known it was your first then I would’ve… I don’t know. Done something more-“

“Steve. C’mon. This is great. I’ve never had this kinda shit before. Never just been out for dinner. Definitely not with someone this hot. I’m certain I’d remember if I did.” 

“I guess.”

“Besides. Dates are, what, a chance to hang out and get to know each other? Definitely worked.” Steve nodded, feeling a little better. 

They finished the wine and ordered coffee instead of desert and Steve found himself drinking it as slowly as possible. He didn’t want this to end. He was kind of thinking about sex, but can you blame him? Tony Fucking Stark was sat across from him in all his sex-god glory. Plus, this was Tony, so he knew the possibility was definitely on the table, but something in Steve wanted to make this date ‘proper’. He wanted it to be traditional and respectful, just so Tony would know what that was like.

If this was the last date he ever had with him, he would rather have it properly. For Tony, more than anyone else. 

The pair of them argued for ages about who was paying, eventually resulting in Steve paying but allowing Tony to settle the tip. After that, they stood on the sidewalk, embracing the cold night air. The silence between them stretched out as they apparently had a non-verbal conversation, mutually agreeing that neither of them was ready to go home just yet. 

 

“Hit the streets?” Neither moved a step.

“Aren’t we a little overdressed?” Tony looked up at Steve’s question, a lopsided smile on his face, signaling an idea.

 

 

An hour later, the two of them walked out of the 24 Hr Thrift store. God bless New York City and the wonders it held. Tony had switched out to a heavy dark-red leather jacket (he bought it mostly because it came with a free black badge that said ‘FUCK’) and a t-shirt that read ‘drink more apple juice’ on it whilst Steve had found a massive blue sweater with a silver star on it. Definitely a level down from their previous clothes but fun none the less. Somehow Tony Fucking Stark managed to look just as head-turning gorgeous in cheap thrift store clothes as he did in date-wear. 

They wandered the streets for ages, talking and laughing as before. Occasionally they went down on the subway and got on the first one they could find. None of it was planned, they just sort of walked and talked and never really brought up the question of what they were doing or where they were going or why. 

Until they came up the steps from the subway and Tony suddenly smiled in that terrifying way that made Steve think ‘oh no’. 

“Steve. You’re an artist right?” Steve nodded slowly, slightly regretting telling him that and wondering vaguely what this was going to lead on to. Tony smiled delightedly and ran off, telling him to wait there. 

 

He was back within almost ten minutes, a big plastic bag full of something he couldn’t make out. 

“C’mon” They wound around some buildings, down alleyways and across random streets until Tony decided that this spot was good enough. He dropped the bag on the floor with a clunk and out rolled about 20 cans of spray paint. 

“Tony-“

“Steve! It’ll be fun! I wanna see your art.”

“I have never done this kind of art before.”

“Please.” Tony took a step forward toward him, eyes bright in the low light. Steve tried so hard to resist. Resist this cute guy in a too-big leather jacket and happy, hopeful smile. He failed. He caved. If only because this may be the first time Tony Fucking Stark has said ‘please’ in his life.

He picked up a can.

 

 

Steve hated to admit it, but this was so much fun. He experimented for a while, finding his groove, eventually deciding that it was more his thing to go for a pop-arty style. Tony tried it for a bit too, not really trying for anything except fun colors and patterns. Steve painted and then covered it up and then painted and then covered it up. He had no idea how long he did it for. 

Tony stopped with painting after getting himself suitable covered. How did he manage to get it all over himself? Now he watched Steve, drinking something he must have gotten from the store earlier and talking absently. At some point, he started playing music. 

So many thoughts were going through his mind. So many ideas. He hadn’t felt this creative in weeks. The inspiration was flowing. Flowing from maybe the new art medium, the new technique. Maybe from the drinks he’d had, maybe it was the time of night. Maybe it was the one-in-a-million boy sat on the ground behind him, thinking out loud in between singing ‘aint no rest for the wicked’ and sipping his drink. 

After a million or so tries, he settled on a final idea. The mark he wanted to leave on the streets of New York City. A permanent remnant of this night.

 

He shook the can.

 

__

 

“Woah.” Steve turned to look behind him at Tony, who was staring at the wall, fourth or fifth or sixth drink in hand. He stood up to walk closer, eyes not leaving the wall.

It was him. It was Tony. Sort of. Him from the neck upwards. Looking off to the side at an invisible phenomenon. Pop-art style. 

The background was black with small white flecks, like stars. His jaw was pronounced and thick black lines outlined his face and features. His eyelashes were long and dark over large eyes. Instead of hair, he had flowers. It was amazing. Words did it no justice at all. He’d signed it in the corner with a little drawing of a dinosaur.

Tony stared for a little bit longer.

“Woah.” He said again, walking up and touching it gently. When he turned back to face him, Steve took a picture. Tony Stark looking ragged and cute with red paint on his nose, standing in front of the art on the wall.

“Is this… Tony Fucking Stark actually speechless?” Steve laughed, putting the cans back in the plastic bag. He wasn’t very good, as he had only just started. It didn’t really look like Tony, anyway. Not as much as he would’ve liked. The boy was impossible to recreate. Partially because he would never fucking sit still, partially because those features just seemed impossible to capture.

“I look amazing.” He stated. He turned to Steve. “I told you this was a good idea.” 

“Fine. Yeah. It was a good idea.” He yawned as he said it and Tony frowned.

“You’re tired. C’mon.” He took him by the hand again and led him away, casting one last look at the picture on the wall. 

 

 

Steve walked Tony back to his tower. (Felt weird saying that, but y’know). He didn’t release his hand as he walked to the elevator and he found himself in Tony’s place once more. He stood awkwardly at the entrance, suddenly unsure of himself despite how easy the night had been.

“I had a really good time, Tony.”

“Of course you did, I’m amazing.” Tony walked out and into the penthouse. “Want something to drink?” 

“I should probably go. It’s late.” He turned to look at him.

“Oh, yeah. Of course. You should go. Yeah. It’s late.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Needless to say, Steve did not go. He did have some bomb ass sex, though. 

 

“So, are you supposed to do that on the first date?” Tony asked, lying next to him in his own bed, breathing heavy. 

“Nothing about you fits in the ‘supposed to happen’ category, Stark.” Steve looked over at the boy next to him. His dark hair was splayed out on the bed, pillows having been long disregarded. His lips were dark and swollen and Steve tried hard not to think about the fact that Tony never stayed with anyone, ever. Never really did dates or commitment or any of that kind of thing. Tried hard not to think about the fact that this may be the last time he ever really sees Tony Fucking Stark, in all his post-sex glow and glory. 

Nothing wrong with trying though, is there?

“Do you want to do this again?” He tried to steady his breathing, his head was still a little foggy from whatever the hell had just happened between him and Tony. 

“What, right now? Yes.” Tony laughed, running a hand through his hair.  Steve did not think about how nice his arms were. Or his hands. Instead, he reached to the floor and picked up a pillow, whacking him with it.

“Not that. I mean, yeah, that too. But you know what I meant. Do you want to go out again? Am I worthy of taking the great Tony Stark out for a second date?” 

Tony looked at him for a long second, biting his bottom lip lightly.

“No.” Steve startled a little but recovered well. “Because. It’s time maybe that Tony Stark took Steve Rogers out for a date. It’s my turn to treat.” 

Steve didn’t think he’d ever felt so relieved in his life. “Same time next week?” 

 

They celebrated. Vigorously.

 

 And then again, one more time after that.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, when Steve woke up, it took him several minutes to remember where he was. To remember all that had happened the night before. Fucking hell. So the date didn’t go exactly to plan, but it was Tony Fucking Stark, so of course, it didn’t.

Tony wasn’t in bed with him and Steve tried not to think about that as he pulled on pants and looked for his shirt. Tony’s bedroom was nice. Expensive looking and yet, like everything else in the flat, seemingly unused. He didn’t nosy around this time. Being caught once was definitely enough. He stood awkwardly in the room for a little bit then wandered out into the large, open plan area.

Tony was in the kitchen, sat cross-legged on the counter, tablet resting on his legs and a coffee cup in hand. He was in a big black MIT t-shirt and PJ pants and his hair was all fluffy and messy. When he walked in, Tony looked up and smiled warmly. Steve felt everything in his chest squirm with pleasure at the sight. 

He wandered up to him, standing close in front of the counter. Tony put down the coffee and the tablet and looked up at him.

‘Y’know, no one’s ever stayed over before.” Steve suddenly froze in fear. Had he outstayed his welcome? Fuck, he should have just left. “I usually don’t let them.”

What? 

“So I’m special?” Steve smiled, suddenly confident again. Apparently, his emotions were a small whirlwind around this guy.

“Hm. Maybe.” Tony put his hands on Steve’s hips, pulling him forward a bit. “Too big to move, more like.” 

Steve took a deep breath and took the plunge, leaning in and kissing soft lips for a few seconds. When he pulled away, he was met with a small smile. Until something in Tony’s eyes flicked and he released Steve, hopping down from the counter.

 

“JARVIS? Fix Steve a cup. I’m gonna get dressed.” Then he was out of the room. What? What just happened? Who was Jarvis? Why was the coffee machine going? That was so cool.

“Your coffee is ready, Mr Rogers?” Steve jumped two feet in the air. What the _hell_? A voice from the sky just fucking asked him about coffee.

“Who are you? What?” He looked up at the ceiling, frowning.

“I am J.A.R.V.I.S, Mr Stark’s Artificial Intelligence. I assist wherever I am needed, including the running of the house. Your coffee is ready, Mr Rogers.” 

 

Steve walked cautiously over to the coffee machine and took a sip. Vanilla Latte. Nice.

 

“Mr JARVIS? How did you know that this is the kind of coffee I liked?”

  
“Mr Stark has coded me to find out whatever is necessary by any means. I have analyzed your bank transfers at Starbucks and deduced that your preferred beverage is a vanilla latte in the mornings, an espresso in the evenings.” 

Creepy. Definitely creepy. Steve tried so hard to care. He really did. The coffee was good though. Good enough to convince him that the massive invasion of privacy was worth it.

“I thought AIs didn’t really exist yet. Not properly, anyway.”

“I am of Mr Stark’s own creation. The details have not been disclosed to the public.” 

“Why did he make you?” 

“I am not at liberty to provide that information, though part of the reason is an old professor of Mr Stark’s at the Massachusetts Institution of Technology was adamant that he would be unable to do so. I am, as Mr Stark would call, a ‘spite baby’.” 

Of course, Tony Fucking Stark would design and create the most advanced artificial intelligence in the world, years ahead of its time, out of spite. He wondered what the other reasons for creation were. He chatted with the AI a little longer, finding him quite good company. He was a learning robot, apparently. Which explained why he was somewhat sassy and found any gap to weave some attitude into his responses. Definitely Stark’s creation.

 

When Tony wandered back in, he got himself another coffee and smiled at Steve, a little different to the warm and open smile he had received earlier, but beautiful none the less. 

“Do you live alone?” Steve asked, looking around the huge penthouse. Tony nodded and sat back up on the counter, jumping a little bit. “Do you spend much time here?” Tony shook his head, looking directly at him. “What do you do now you’ve graduated MIT?”

“I keep busy.” He said in a non-committal way, “You can read about in some magazine, I’m sure.” He leaned back against the wall of his kitchen. “What’s with the third degree?” 

Steve shrugged, not really sure he was asking so many questions. “Just want to get to know you better, I guess.” 

“Steve. You were literally inside me last night. How much do you need to know?” He winced a little at Tony’s crassness but nodded anyway. Tony was up again, apparently not being able to sit still for longer than 5 seconds. “Okay, I have a few things I gotta do. You can stay here as long as you want but I have to go-“

“No, it’s fine. I need to go home now anyway. I got work in a few hours.” He followed Tony over to the elevator, tapping his pants to check he had his phone and wallet. Tony handed him his coat and the plastic bag full of paint cans.

“I thought you worked at night?” 

“I only work at the museum two nights a week. I got a 3 day a week day-job too.” Tony nodded absently and tapped the button for the doors to close. Then he looked up at Steve, smiling his lopsided smile and Steve had absolutely zero self-control because now Tony was up against the wall and being kissed off his face and if the small “hm!” that slipped out was anything to go by then he absolutely did not mind. Steve’s hands went immediately went to his hips, running up under his t-shirt and up his sides. Tony’s own hands wrapped around Steve’s shoulders.

 

The doors binged and opened, a few women and a man walked in. Steve jumped back, side-eyeing a smirking Tony Fucking Stark.

When they got out of the elevator, they went their separate ways. By way of goodbye, Tony said ‘see you Friday, I’ll pick you up.’ and Steve just smiled, carrying the bag with all the paint cans and the shirt and tie he ended up ditching.

 

What a weird date.

 

 

___ 

 

 

“Steve! Stevie! You’re in the fucking news!” Bucky burst into Steve’s flat, Sam following close behind. He was clutching some tacky tabloid in his hand. It was about 7 PM. With a sigh, Steve sat up as his friends crash-landed on the sofa by him. They shoved the tabloid into his hands. Sure enough, there on the front page was him and Tony on the street outside the tower, dressed well and heading to their date. Tony was smiling slightly, arms mid-gesture, obviously talking and Steve was laughing so hard his head was tipped back. The headline was something stupid that he didn’t bother to read.

"Don't forget about us when you're famous."

“So? Are you gonna tell us about your date? You usually text us as soon as you leave.” Sam leaned over, taking some of the Doritos out of the bowl on Steve’s lap.

“I did.” 

“No, you didn’t. You texted us this morni- OHH” The boys erupted in cheers, slapping his back and laughing. “You dog.” 

 

“So you, Steve Rogers, my friend, slept with Tony Fucking Stark not once, not twice, but now three times!” Bucky cheered.

“Well, if we’re being technical about it. I have now slept with Tony Stark 5 times.” They cheered some more at the omission, yelling about three times in one night and how that was definitely cause for celebration and they were going to text Nat and get drinks. Steve tucked the picture into a drawer.

 

 

Over the next few days, Steve thought about Tony. He appeared a lot on social media, usually drunk. He found himself counting down the days until Friday.

Turns out, he saw him on Thursday, by pure coincidence, as Steve was walking home from the museum at 5 in the morning. 

“Tony?” He swung around to face him, taking a few seconds to really focus on him. He smiled slightly, the same old lopsided grin as before. 

“Hey, Steve.” He said, then collapsed sideways. Steve rushed forward and picked him up, steadying him. He didn’t release his arm even when he was stood on his own. He had a bottle in his hand.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tony looked at him, dark circles under his eyes.

“Whatever the fuck I want, Steve. It’s great.” He swayed in Steve’s grip and his eyes seemed to see right through him and beyond. Whatever he was on, he was far gone. 

“What have you done? Do I need to take you to the hospital?” The anger in his voice caught Tony’s attention. He laughed.

“You need to… stop asking so many questions. And leave me alone.” He yanked his arm out of Steve’s grip and stumbled. Somewhere across the street, there was a camera flash. Tony threw his bottle at the culprit and the pap ran. Fuck.

“I’m not going to leave you alone. I’m taking you home.” Tony wriggled away when Steve tried to take hold of him again, suddenly looking pissed off.

“Back the fuck up. I can handle myself.” He started to walk off but Steve caught up.

“Tony, you’re a mess.” Tony whirled around, glaring.  
“So? It’s not your problem. Leave me the fuck alone, Steve.” 

“I’m just trying to help you! You need to go home.” 

“I’m starting to want you to make me.” Tony was tense and looked ready, despite the tiredness in his eyes. “Look, whatever it is you want, just ask, okay? I don’t need this pretend hero complex thing, alright? So what is it? Money? Sex? Or do you just want to stick around so you can say you’ve seen Tony Fucking Stark fall apart.” 

“Why would you think that’s what it is? Why are you so wrapped up in your self that you can’t see that I’m just here to help?” 

“Bullshit” Tony spat out, still looking angrily at Steve. “I know you, I know your type. You aren’t special. What is it you want?” 

“To stop you from killing yourself!” Steve took a step forward and towered over the boy in front of him. It was the wrong thing to do, he knew. His subconscious told him it was the grabbing and the physical force that probably pushed Tony to the end of his (short) temper in the first place. He did it anyway. “Someone has to!” 

“What’s that supposed to fucking mean? I can look after my damn self, Steve.” Tony took a step forward, still swaying slightly but there was anger in his heavily dilated eyes. 

“No, you can’t. You don’t have anyone, Tony, and you never will if you keep acting like this.” Steve watched his hand’s clench into fists, his shoulders back and chin up as he took the verbal hit. 

“And you? What’s the big boring hole in your life that you’re trying to fill with me?” Tony took yet another step forward, eyes cold. “Bored of your 9-5? Bored with your friends? Life just not quite fulfilling enough for you so now it’s me, is it?”

“If I wanted something more in my life, Stark, I’d choose someone other than a brat with nothing else to do but destroy himself. Who do you think you are?” 

Tony sighed, “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, engineer.” 

“I know people with none of that worth ten of you.” Steve had no idea why he was saying this, why Tony Fucking Stark was making me feel all these things. “Everyone’s read the fucking news, seen the footage. Everyone knows the only thing you’re good for is a fuck and the only thing you care about is yourself.”

“You think you’re better than me because of that? You think you’re a hero? You’re not special, Rogers, you’re average. If you can’t deal with that, find someone else to fulfill your savior complex.” The word’s stung, but Steve didn’t relent.

“Big man with all your drugs and drinking. Take that away. What are you without that? Without your rep? Why are you doing this?” Steve took a step back and Tony’s face seemed cold and dead.

“I flushed all my drugs down the toilet two years ago. Then, I lost my parents, and then, and then, and then I never stopped. Because the truth is I don’t wanna stop. Who are you to tell me what I should do? God, I hate you.”

“Tony, I don’t want to make things difficult.”

“I know because you’re a very polite person,” Tony said dismissively, walking slightly away from Steve once more.

“I can’t ignore this, Tony. I can’t leave you.” 

“Sometimes I want to punch you in your perfect fucking teeth.” Tony didn’t look back at him as he walked away. Steve was overwhelmed with the desire to light him on fire. Also to kiss him. How can you feel both of those things so strongly? God, this kid was going to drive him crazy. 

 

There was still adrenaline rushing through his body when he slammed Tony into the wall. He fought back and Steve was certain that if he had been sober, then he would’ve been successful. But he wasn’t. He was an idiot who did drugs and didn’t take care of himself.

Then Tony punched him. Not too hard, not with all the force he could, but with enough to get Steve off him. 

“Fuck off, Steve.” With that, he turned a corner and was gone, in a direction that was not towards the tower. Steve didn’t follow. 

As soon as he was gone, as soon as he was out of sight, the fire died, gone away with Tony. Steve felt empty and alone and confused.

 

He didn’t go home, he went to Bucky’s. He wondered vaguely where Tony went, who he would go to comfort.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

“It’s because he’s Italian, I bet. They’re fucking hurricanes, man. They’re so stubborn and passionate and they always think they know what they want. I tell you, right, I was once with this girl, she was Italian. So we’re fooling around and- Right, sorry, your problem, I remember.” Bucky had an arm around Steve, who was eating his feelings. “Did he spit at ya? I think Italians do that when they’re cross. Kickers too.” 

Steve wasn’t really listening. Bucky comes up with all kinds of shit when he’s trying to make Steve feel better. 

It sometimes works.

 

They watch TV for a few hours, doing absolutely nothing. Then Bucky turned to him again.

“Look, pal, you gotta let this shit go. He’s… That kid’s bad news. Do you even know what drugs he was on?” Steve shook his head no, resenting the truth in Bucky’s words. “Exactly. Just… move on. Besides, I’m sure there’s someone out there with just as good sex-“

“Nope.”

“Almost as good sex-“

“Nope.”

“Half as good-“

“No.” Steve said sadly, silently mourning the blow jobs. 

“C’mon, buddy, it’ll be fine. Nat’ll fix you up with someone.” 

“Buck-“

“Alright fine. I’ll get you some more food and let you eat your feelings for the next few weeks. That better?” 

Steve nodded.

 

 

___

 

 

Friday night came and Steve lay in bed surrounded by food, his dog lay at the edge of his bed. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he was going to miss out on tonight. Next to him was another picture from another shitty tabloid. Steve and Tony, together on the street. Steve looked cross and overbearing and Tony looked floppy and careless. 

He was fully prepared for a lame, sad night in with jeopardy re-runs, so, as you would expect, he was a little pissed off when there was a knock on his door. He shoved some wrappers off of him and walked slowly over to the door in his sweats, expecting it to be Bucky or Sam or the pizza delivery guy. His dog got to the door before him and Steve had to bat him away to open it.

 

“Tony? What the hell are you doing here?”

What he wasn’t expecting was Tony Fucking Stark there, and yet there was, leaning against the doorway and smiling slightly. He was dressed casually, but his hair was slightly neater than usual (though it probably never stayed completely down). 

 

He stood there, all dark colors and tan skin and vivid arrogance. Steve didn’t bother asking how the hell he’d found out where he lived.

 

“I said I’d pick you up for a date. I am a man of my word.” Suddenly, Steve felt embarrassed in his sweats and backed up into his apartment, not sure what to do.

“I, uh, didn’t expect you to-“

“Turn up?” Tony laughed and walked past him into his flat, inviting himself in. 

“Basically, yeah. I haven’t exactly forgiven you yet.”

“I’m sure you haven’t. You’re not really my favorite person either, Rogers. But I’m he-“ Suddenly, his guest _gasped_. Loudly and dramatically.

 

When Steve turned, Tony was on the ground, covered completely by his dog.

“Dodge. Dodger, get off him.” Tony glared at him.

“No! Bambino, restare! Bambino cucciolo. così carino, bambino minuscolo, si. Si. Bravo ragazzo.” Tony continued to wrestle with Dodge, pausing his rapid-fire coo-ing only to tell Steve that he should get dressed because they’re going on their date. 

 

“Unless you don’t want to?” His eyebrow raised in challenge.

Bucky’s warnings echoed faintly in his ears but it was completely drowned out by the insinuation in Tony’s voice. The subtext was screaming at him.

Can you handle Tony Fucking Stark? 

 

“Fine. Where are we going?” Steve wandered over to his bedroom, opening his door as little as possible so that Tony wouldn’t see all the food laying around in there. He’d be damned to hell if Tony won this. He was going on that date.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Of course it is.” He muttered, closing the door behind him. What the fuck was he going to wear? Tony was only wearing casual things. He’ll try and match that, maybe. He sat on the bed for ages, staring at his clothes in the wardrobe.

 

“Woah, how much do you fucking eat?” Steve spun around, indignant at the intrusion and embarrassed at his half-clothed state. Tony was stood there, Dodger held up on his hip like a baby. “Oh come one, Steve, do I have to pull the ‘your penis has been in my damn mouth’ card again?” 

Steve just sighed, pulled on a white t-shirt and picked up his brown leather jacket. Tony nodded in appreciation and walked out, kissing Dodge goodbye, picking up a beer and leaving the apartment altogether. Steve waited for a second or two, debating following him, before deciding that there was no way he wasn’t in. He caught up with him on the stairs. 

 

“When do I find out where we’re going?” 

“When we get there.” 

“Have you always been this difficult?”

“Some say the mystery is sexy.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“Take it however you want, baby.” They were out in the cold air once more and Tony walked left.

“We’re walking?” 

“In keeping with tradition.” 

“Is it tradition if you’ve only done it once?” Tony shrugged and they somehow found themselves slipping back into casual conversation. Happy, easy conversation in which Steve always felt two steps behind but never really minded that much.

 

 

Tony was definitely leading him into some dodgy part of the city. They walked for ages. Or not ages. Steve had no gage on time when it came to Tony. They seemed to be nearing the destination when Steve heard noise. Noise like… yelling and engine noises and music. What…

“Where are we going?” Steve asks warily. Tony, for probably the first time in his life, says nothing. They turn a few corners and the noises get louder. Finally, when the noises are deafening and there are bright colored lights everywhere, they turn a corner onto a street. There’s a crowd of people on either side of the road and several cars. People are yelling and drinking and Tony drags Steve all the way to the side of the street. There, someone’s stood with a megaphone and is yelling about the race starting soon. 

 

“Street racing?” Tony turns to him and nods. 

“Won’t be long. Little warm up to our date, eh?”

“Why?”

“Last time we did a date thing and then an illegal thing. This time I’m switching it up and we’re doing an illegal thing and then a date thing.”

He wished, slightly, that a part of him disapproved. That even a part of him didn’t need this kind of excitement and stupidity.

 He did, though. He reallt did.

Tony grabs the megaphone from the guy.

 

“Tony Fucking Stark is here let’s start the fucking race.” The crowd cheers and engines start revving and Tony hands the megaphone back and accepts a drink handed to him by a stranger. He turns to Steve. “Toyota or Chevy?” 

“Chevy.” Now he’s being dragged into the road, weaving through maybe 6 cars and some lean out to greet Tony and clink drinks. Steve smiles. What is this life he’s been dragged into? On the way, Tony chucks some keys to a girl who walks over to a Toyota that’s been lowered and pimped, in black and yellow. Then they reach the Chevy. It’s a garish red and gold, also lowered, but it somehow worked. Steve got in the passenger seat. 

“Good choice. Someone made this a nitrous oxide engine. Is gonna be good, Steve.” 

“Am I going to die?”

The response was a laugh. “Don’t you trust me? Have you no faith?” 

 

Steve buckled in and took a long, long, swig of whatever Tony’s drink was.

 

 

 

When the race started, Steve was thrown back in his seat. His hands clutched at just about anything in the car and he couldn’t seem to decide between staring at the road or Tony, to check that he actually had his _fucking eyes open._  

 

He had never seen driving like this - let alone _experienced_ it, in an illegal street race, in the dark. Tony, of course, was laughing like a madman and playing ACDC or some shit on the car’s crappy stereo. 

Tony swerved violently and Steve clenched his eyes shut as the Chevy came so close to another car in it’s overtake that it was definitely a millimeter from a crash. 

“Are you crazy?” He looked out the window and the car veered a sharp left, clipping the curb. The tail end of the car swung out, smashing slightly into a green Mustang. 

“Jury’s out.” Tony was grinning. Actually grinning. He grabbed the stick shift and switched up a gear. The engine roared and the car, somehow, got even faster. To Steve’s horror, the cars in front were all taking another left. Tony, obviously, followed. Right into the very small road. 

 

The next few minutes were a high-speed blur of sharp corners, little alleyways, Tony’s manic laughter, and bright white lights in the dark streets. Once they were back on a wider, more open road, Tony decided it was time to take the lead.

He sped up yet again, dodging in between each car with mortifying precision. Lights flash and horns beeped and Steve came very close to death several times. 

 

He loved it.

 

He also hated it, to be fair. Tony drove like a maniac with nothing to lose. Steve supposed that maybe he was.

 At the very least, Tony was good. He was a fantastic driver and seemed to be totally in touch with the machine. Self-destructive son of a bitch. 

 

The race was meant to be short-lived. They reached the point they’d started with Tony in lead, if only barely. They’d stopped, Steve had tried to breathe, and the small crowd was cheering.

Then the police sirens became audible. A few people started shouting. The crowd dispersed, but most of them just jumped into random cars. Three people got in the back of their Chevy, telling Tony to drive.

Tony, being an obtrusive little shit, refused. Steve stared at him in shock, but he only shrugged and got out of the car, leaving the keys in. They all watched him walk around the car as the others drove off. He got to the passenger door and opened it.

 

“You drive.”

The sirens were getting closer and the strangers in the back getting louder and Steve really did not have time to think about this and shuffled over. He started the car as blue lights became visible in the mirror.

 

He slammed on the peddle, feeling the car jolt forward. There was a huge amount of adrenaline in his body which could be attributed to a combination of being chased by the police, almost dying in an illegal street race, and just being in general close proximity to Tony Fucking Stark.

Steve always was good under pressure, though. The Chevy sped up.

Tony gave him one or two directions, but the people in the back were more invested in an escape. They pointed out good roads to go down and told him things like ‘turn your lights off’. The strangers, and especially Tony, seemed to be having way too good of a time. 

Steve pretended he wasn’t enjoying this too. 

The police car was almost right behind them, sirens blaring and a static-y voice telling them to slow down and pull over.

Steve kept driving, heartbeat in his ear. Somewhere along the road, Tony opened the window and sat on the fucking door, his whole torso out the car. Steve could hear him whooping and tried to ignore the fact that if his grip didn’t hold, he would almost definitely die. Tony didn’t care.

 

Minutes (or hours) later, the cops had fallen behind by about 50 feet.

“Go! Fucking turn right, Blondie! Right right right! In 3… 2… 1… NOW. TURN RIGHT” One of the strangers was yelling at him. He obeyed.

“It’s a dead end!” Steve yelled, panicking and thinking and sweating a tiny bit. The others in the back shut off all the lights and turned off the stereo, one leaned forward and switched the car off. Tony slid back in and they all stayed dead silent in the dark alleyway. 

 

Waiting. For hours.

(12 seconds).

 

The cop car drove straight past, lights flashing.

 

Steve breathed out.

 

 

 

The strangers left after that. They didn’t seem to be strangers to Tony, though.

 

“Bye, Clint, remember to get a fucking haircut. Bye, Thor, same to you. See ya, Rhodey.” They said their own goodbyes and then Tony turned back to Steve, “Ready for our _real_ date?"

“No.” Steve bent over and put his head on the steering wheel. He breathed again for a little bit longer. Fuck Tony. Fuck Tony Fucking Stark. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Alphabetical or chronological?” Tony laughed, “Seriously, though. You liked it. I know you did.”

 

“Citation?”

“You smiled. You’re not angry. Uh, you haven’t cried or anything?” His heart rate was still way up, breathing heavy. Steve stared at Tony’s beautiful, irritating face in the half-light. His hair was super messed up and fluffy

Don’t kiss him, a Bucky-sounding voice warned. Don’t kiss him even though he’s windswept and gorgeous and smells good. Don’t kiss him. Don’t kiss him even though he’s the best kisser ever and don’t kiss him even though you want to. Don’t kiss him. Don’t kiss him. Don’t kiss him.

 

Steve, needless to say, kissed him.

God, Steve hasn’t made out with someone in an old car seat since high school. This time he knew what he was doing, at least. It was escalating a lot quicker than then, too.

“Fine. What’s next?” He broke away and Tony climbed off his lap (when did he get there?) and out of the car. They walked together out of the alleyway, and into the street. They left the Chevy.

“I don’t think we’re actually very that far from where we need to be.” They walked together a little more, talking aimlessly while Steve tried not to think about how much he had hated Tony a few hours ago and how he was feeling a million things at once towards this idiot.

 

He still wanted to kiss him. He still kind of wanted to set him on fire. Tony’s phone pinged. When he checked it, he laughed.

 

“NYPD has a speed camera photo of us.” He held up his phone to display the picture. It was blurry. Blurry enough for them to be just about unidentifiable, despite Tony hanging out the car with his fist in the air. The plates on the car were clear but the Chevy had been left in an alleyway somewhere. “I look good.”

Steve laughed because surprisingly, he did. “Send that to me.” Tony nodded, “And how did you get that?”

“Oh, I’m in the NYPD systems. I have access to anything I want.”

 

Steve tries to find it in him to be surprised.

 

 

“Right, we’re here.” Tony finally says, standing outside the door to… a laundromat. 

“I gotta say, Tones, aren’t we a little overdressed?” They go inside. No one is in there. It’s literally a laundromat.

“Actually, we’re pretty underdressed. Luckily, I’m Tony Fucking Stark so I’m pretty sure they’ll still serve.” Serve? Serve what? It’s a laundromat. 

“You’re so weird. What’re we doing here?” Tony pushed the sleeves of his jacket up and wandered over to a dryer. Don’t think about his forearms, Steve. That’s weird.

Tony stared at the dryer for a minute or two. Steve stood awkwardly behind.

“Fuck. What is it?” He asked lowly, more to himself than to Steve.

“Uh, a dryer?” 

“No. It’s… I think it’s-“ Then, he reached up and pressed one button, then another, then the first one again twice. He pushed the machine and it swung back into the wall like a door. A secret door?

“Yay,” said Tony, who turned back to Steve and gestured for him to come. He walked forward cautiously. Where the machine had swung inwards, the room’s general look of bright and hygienic white and mint green was interrupted by the black hole behind the door. It led to a staircase downwards.

 

“Are you gonna kill me? Because I gotta just text someone to feed Dodger, y’know-“

“I’m not going to kill you. But if I was going to, I would be the one taking your little cucciolo.” Tony wandered down the badly lit steps and Steve, for some reason, followed.

The steps only went down a little way, then it was a corridor, still in the dark. The corridor was much less short. They walked along it for seemingly ages, until suddenly they were going up again and Steve could hear faint music getting louder with each step. It was still near darkness when they made it to the top of the stairs. It was dark and dingy and Steve was a little claustrophobic. Tony knocked on the door.

 

“Password?”

What kind of messed up crooked kind of place _is_ this? Steve thought.

 

“Seriously, T’Challa? It’s Tony, let me the fuck in.” 

Apparently, that was the correct password because the door swung open. The view had Steve fighting to keep his mouth shut. They were on a roof of some kind, clearly way away from wherever the laundromat was that they’d started out in. It was not massive, but it was nice.

The roof was like a bar, almost. Or a restaurant. A bar, mostly. There were fairly lights overhead, casting the whole place in a yellowish glow. There was music playing from a live band and casual conversation maintained a steady noise level. The view was also stunning. They had a huge New York skyline from up there. It was breathtaking. 

 

“Steve, this is T’Challa. He runs this joint.” Steve smiled at the man across from him. “He also makes the best drinks in the city.”

“Only for people of age,” the man jokes, “my apologies, Steve.”

“No worries. I’m 22.”

“Ah. So you are babysitting young Stark here?” 

“Not that young.” Tony stood inconspicuously on his tiptoes. Both Steve and T’Challa noticed. “Besides, Oh King T’Challa Of Abiding The Law, where’s your license to run a bar?” 

“Touche. Where do you want to be tonight?” The owner of the bar lead them personally to a couple of chairs at the very edge of the roof in the corner, near the band but not deafening, near the other people but not in the crowds. The best spot in the house.

“Thanks, buddy.”

“No problem, what are we drinking tonight?” 

 

 

 

While Tony was talking to T’Challa and ordering drinks, Steve gave himself a moment to take it all in. 45 minutes ago he’d been in a police car chase through the streets of New York, an hour before that he’d been sat alone in his bed eating junk food. Where was the balance in his life? Who’s this Stark kid and what’s he doing messing Steve’s whole life up?

Why was he even here on a second date anyway? The Great Tony Stark? _Dating_?

Steve wondered if this meant there was commitment there. He wondered if Tony was screwing other people while it happened. It wouldn’t be unreasonable. They weren’t partners or exclusive or anything, it was just a second date. 

They were so special though, weren’t they? This had to be something more than standard. It can’t just be Steve thinking maybe this kind of chemistry isn’t going to just die. 

Steve wondered if there was any hope of reigning in Tony Fucking Stark for himself and if he even wanted to do that. Did he even want a relationship with this guy? Bucky was right, he wasn’t normal. He might need someone normal. A nice girl or boy to take to dinner and then take home with no lawbreaking. No hurricane of emotion. No mismatched feelings and no desire to punch a wall and no confusion. Just nice-ness. A nice girl or boy. A nice girl or boy who didn’t make Steve’s head spin.

Steve looked at Tony, carrying their drinks.

He wasn’t nice. 

 

Tony Stark was not nice.

 

He was so much more than that, in every direction, and Steve wanted it so bad. 

 

His drink was set in front of him. Just a beer. 

Just what he wanted.

“So?”

“Huh? What?”

“Is this good? I’ve never been on a date before, buttercup, give me some clues.” 

Steve blinked and looked at the man opposite him, sipping a rum and coke. The cityscape behind him, the night sky above him, the stupid smile on his stupid face.

 

“It’s perfect.”

 

 

 

 

It was amazing, really, how easy conversation with Tony was. It was so normal? So regular and standard. Yet everything’s a little special. A little bit extra.

 

He’s funny. Sharp and witty and biting with a wicked sense of humor. Steve once again found himself always a little behind in the flow of things and not minding one bit. They talked about anything. Argued about anything. They seemed to disagree on just about everything. It didn’t matter, though, because the drinks kept pouring and the laughs kept coming and the sun stayed away long enough for it to be another perfect night with Tony Stark.

T’Challa took a photo of the two of them when they’d gotten up to dance with everyone else. He did this to ‘prove that Tony Stark can and will dance with enough booze in him’.

 

 

That night (or morning), Tony walked Steve to his door. Mostly, Steve suspected, because he wanted to see Dodger again. They stood outside in the hall for a really long time, just talking and not really confronting the problem of the door. 

 

Then it was open and Tony was already on his knees in the hallway, scooping Dodge into his arms and reverting immediately back to Italian.

“Uh, want to come in for a drink?” He asked, unsure if Tony even heard him. He was a little offended that Dodger had just run past him if he was honest. Tony just nodded, not breaking his foreign praise of the dog. He picked him up like a baby again, carrying him inside totally unnecessarily. 

“How do you keep a dog in NYC? Doesn’t he need a bunch of walks and stuff?” Tony sat down at the kitchen table, dog in his arms.

“Not really. I got him when he was super old. He doesn’t run much, he just sleeps.”

“Cucciolo, è ora di andare a letto?” He’s up again, carrying a very happy dog toward Steve’s room. Talking a mile a minute still, Steve watches his dog get tucked into his own bed with a kiss on the forehead.

 

He’s not jealous, he tells himself as he makes some coffee. He’s not jealous. Just because his dog gets cuddles and hugs and forehead kisses when the most Steve’s gotten outside of sex was a hand grab. He’s not jealous.

Also, when did someone speaking Italian get so hot? And since when did Tony Fucking Stark like dogs so much?

Don’t get him wrong. It was the cutest thing, like, ever. But seriously? Tony ‘Im so tough’ Stark? Tucking his dog into bed?

Where was he going to sleep, now?

 

When he turns around again, Tony’s sitting on the table. He’s shed his jacket somewhere and has clearly made himself very comfortable. He spreads his legs slightly and looks innocently at Steve, biting his lip slightly. 

 

The coffee goes forgotten and Steve’s kitchen table gets tainted for life.

 

 

So does his countertop

 

So does his sofa.

 

 

(Tony definitely has a limp now)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me getting carried away bc i love Stony Texting

 

 

Steve doesn’t go to sleep immediately after. He does come close, though. He’s teetering on the edge of sleep as he listens to Tony get up and dressed. He stays on the border of consciousness while his guest helps himself to his coffee and lights up a cigarette in Steve’s own place. He doesn’t mind. He’s still a little high on endorphins. 

He’s still walking the line between sleep and wakefulness when he hears Tony pick up his jacket and try to leave.

Steve has a funky door though (A broken door). It needs jiggling and lifting and pressure on it at the same time in order to open. Stark, obviously, doesn’t know this. Steve hears a soft “fuck” and he smiles slightly.

 

He hears the window open.

 

“You could just ask me how to open the door, y’know.” He sits up and looks at Tony, who is sat with one leg out the window.

“Didn’t want to wake you up,” he says, completely unashamed.

“Scared I’ll be upset?” Steve laughs and Tony looks at him.

“No. You’re just cute when you sleep.” That stuns Steve a little, long enough for Tony to hoist himself out the window almost completely. “Plus I didn’t want you to notice me stealing all your stuff.”

 

Steve knows he’s joking, but once his guest is gone out of the window he double checks his bed to check that Dodger is still there.

 

 

__

 

 

“I can not believe you went to see him again.” Bucky folds his arms and sighs.

“I didn’t! He came to see me. I just… I just agreed and went with him.” They were in a coffee shop, the three of them.

“Fuck that. I can’t believe you got in an illegal street race and then a high-speed chase with the cops.” Sam butt in. 

“Can we drop it? There are other things going on in our lives.”

“We know that Steve, but it’s not relevant to the plot so the author isn’t going to write us in with actual lives.” Sam sipped on his milkshake.

“We can’t have just one conversation without breaking the fourth wall, can we?” With a sigh, Steve focussed on the TV in the corner of the coffee shop. Bucky was still angry though.

“No. Don’t distract from the point, Rogers. You can’t get yourself mixed up with him!” Steve didn’t think Bucky would ever forgive Tony, despite the fact that the fight was probably equally their own faults. 

“This is ridiculous! It was only a second date! He only came because he said he would and he’s a ‘man of his word’ or some bull. I’m probably never even going to see him again.”

 

 

As if on cue, he saw Tony Fucking Stark again. 

 

On the TV.

That guy is pissing him off when he isn’t even here.

 

Sam and Bucky followed his gaze, watching shitty phone camera footage of a guy slipping out of an 8th-floor window. He slid to the fire escape and leapt with the ease of someone well-practiced in the art of window escaping. When he hits the floor, he spots the man with the camera and the lamppost casts just enough light for a wink to be visible.

“That’s… your apartment block, Steve.” Sam says slowly as the screen cuts to a woman talking about Tony Stark’s alleged secret lover.

“You said he didn’t stay over!”

“He _didn’t_ stay over! He _came_ over, then he left. As you just saw.” Steve felt a little guilty at the half-truth but didn’t back down.

“He came over? Did you have sex?”

“Do you have to ask?”

“Did you have sex?”

“Yes! Fucking hell, Bucky-“

“I can’t believe you-“

“Would you let it go-“

“No! You probably have fucking AIDs or someth-“

 

“SHH!” Sam cut across both of them, eyes still on the TV. “Stark’s on again! It’s live!”

True enough, there he was. He was surrounded by a few reporters, all asking him about his love life. Jesus Christ. He had sunglasses on and looked a little bit pissed off at being harassed, but he was answering some questions as he pushed through. The three of them strained to listen.

Steve pretended his insides didn’t warm up at the sound of that voice.

  
“Stark, Stark. Tony! Tony! Who’s place were you sneaking out of this morning?” 

 

“I’d have thought you’d recognize your own mother’s apartment, dumpy.” Next to him, Sam laughed a little at the joke. 

“Is this the same blond you’ve been spotted with three times now? Could this be the one?” Another reporter asked.

“The one what?” Tony was looking uninterested and being deliberately obtrusive, using all the words that would make a shit headline. 

“Do you have any words for your secret lover, if they’re watching?” A third reporter asked. This question actually made Tony pause and seem to think for a second.

“Uh, yeah. I do.” He pushed his sunglasses onto his head and looked directly into the camera. Steve felt a little attacked. “I’m expecting a text, buttercup.” 

 

“Mr Stark! Tony! Tony Stark! Are you preparing to settle down with this mysterious person?”

“Preparing to settle down?” Tony was walking again and Steve was wincing at the question, “I already settled, baby. We’re married, living together, we got a beautiful kid. Dog, too. Totally settled.” 

The reporters surged forward but he pushed through, putting his glasses back on his face and disappearing. The screen cut again.

 

“Who watches this shit? Is there really no world disaster that we can watch instead?”

“Nah. It’s nearing Christmas. They never put sad stuff up around this time. Plus, coffee shops usually put on trash local news shows, no one wants guilt while they’re having coffee.” Sam explained absently. 

“Uh, anyway-“ 

“You’re not gonna text him again, are you?”

“No. Of course not.”

 

 

 

Steve, needless to say, texted him again.

 

 

__

 

 

He didn’t know why he did it. He’d more or less made his peace with never seeing Tony Stark again. Made his peace with the fact that they were even now, and Stark didn’t do ‘dating’. Made his peace with the fact that he kind of hated him, anyway.

 

He did it anyway.

 

‘TV is a whole new medium. Most guys just text first.’

‘wanted u to feel special, rogers’

‘So I am special?’

‘u see me calling out anyone else on live TV?’ 

In response, Steve sent him a screenshot of the boy himself, on a youtube video from the news, being carried bridal style by a hugely muscled girl and laughing about the muscled sex they were about to have. It was a year or two ago, admittedly, but it definitely was not the only time Tony Stark had talked about sex on national television. 

‘aw u googled me’

‘You’re apparently impossible to avoid.’

‘and yet here u r, not avoiding me’

‘What can I say? I haven’t got your bank details yet.’

‘steve, u threatened to sit on me so i wouldnt pay for dinner’

‘It’s manners and common decency, Stark. Heard of it?’

‘to pay for dinner or to sit on ur date?’

‘I never sat on you, you can let it go’

‘the threat scarred me. u cant buy trauma away, steve'

‘Can you buy better text grammar?’

‘if u dont like it u can go…’

‘I haven’t got what I came for yet’

‘and whats that?’

‘Third date?’

‘i knew u had a crush on me’

‘Is a straight answer really so hard?’

‘time n a date, rogers’

‘Friday again? I’ll pick you up 7’

‘ill be there’

‘You’ll be late’

‘u know me so well’

‘Maybe you’re too predictable?’

‘ur a bit of a surprise too, rogers’

‘How’d you figure that?’

‘just thought u hated me. n here u r asking me out again’

‘I kind of do hate u’

‘HA. u used a ‘u’ instead of you! i win’

‘Fuck you.’

 

__

 

 

Friday came. After a long, long wait.

Hanging out with Tony Stark was like experiencing everything at full volume and 100 miles an hour. Everything else in his life seemed slow and muted and the dramatic swings in mood were making him feel metaphorically nauseous.

 

He got to the tower at 7:00 exactly and Tony was, naturally, late but he got in the elevator and spoke to JARVIS who let him up onto the right floor. Tony was nowhere to be found so Steve wandered through the penthouse awkwardly and made himself a drink.

At 7:20 Tony came in, looking like _a snack_. Steve focussed on his drink to avoid staring. He wasn’t dressed yet for their date, he was still in those tight blue jeans that Steve loved and a plain t-shirt.

It wasn’t anything special - Steve just hadn’t seen him in like a week and had forgotten how blindingly gorgeous he was. He also looked a little tired.

 

“You didn’t bring your dog.”

“Why would I bring-“

“Ugh, it’s the only reason I said yes.”

Steve sighed.  “Are you ready?”

“Born it” came the response. “Except for, y’know, getting dressed and shit.”

 

 _Fuck_ he looked so good. Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“Uh, nothing. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Why?” Smooth, Rogers. Real smooth.

“Okay… Where are we going?” 

“You’ll hate it.”

“No, I won’t”

“You’ll hate it”

“Try me”

“Ice skating”

 

Silence.

 

“You’re right, I hate it.” 

“See.”

“If you knew I’d hate it then why’d you pick it?”

“Because I wanted you to make us do something else instead.”

“What? Make us do what?” Steve couldn’t help but feel a little bit of satisfaction. He had made Tony Stark confused.

“I want you to say that we should stay here instead and you can show me your records” Steve smiled slightly because he was going to win this.

See, Steve was not stupid. He knew that Tony Stark was not a very open guy - this is shown by the fact that they’d been on two dates and Steve still didn’t even know his middle name or favorite color or basically anything personal at all. So, he knew that if he wanted a closer look at the records, and at Tony in general, he would need it to be under threat.

 

“What if I don’t want to do that?”

“Then we can go ice skating.”

“Fuck you, Rogers.” Tony was sitting down on the counter and Steve grinned because this is it. This is victory. He had beaten him. “But we’re ordering Chinese and I’m paying.”

“What? No-“

“Too late. Shut up.” Reluctantly, Steve obeyed. He told Tony what he wanted when he called the nearest place and Tony ignored him and ordered a whole load of other stuff.

 

__

 

 

Steve had never been prouder of himself. He, Steve Rogers, was in the record room, as he called it. With Tony. In Tony’s record room. Listening to records. In the record room with Tony. The room was actually much bigger than Steve remembered, there was a sofa in there and a big record player and a TV as well. 

Right now, Tony was on the floor against the wall, one knee up and Steve was on the sofa. They were absolutely surrounded by vinyls and Chinese food boxes and beer.

 

It had been so good and this was definitely his best idea ever. Tony walked him through a lot of the music, explaining some backstory, talking about who they were and what they stood for. What impact the music had and what had inspired it. They talked about other things too, but mostly it was discussion about music. There was some that Steve liked that Tony had never listened to, so they ended up taking turns choosing and listening.

Tony knew a lot more, but there were some he’d never even heard of. When Steve asked why, he mentioned that it was mostly his dad’s old collection and it was really the only thing he’d kept from his parents. It was the first Steve had ever really heard Tony talk of his parents, so he didn’t push it.

 

Now, they were listening to Fleetwood Mac and Tony was going off on another one.

“Before this album, and during it I guess, they hated each other. Couldn’t be in the same room as each other without ripping each other's throats out. ‘Cause of the divorce and the cheating and all that, y’know. The drugs and shit. Hated each other. Everyone knew. So the band was a mess, okay, and the story goes that their producer came to them and was like. Okay. Cut the bullshit. From now on, you’re only allowed to talk to each other about music. That’s it. Nothing else. You can’t say anything else at all. Only music. So that’s what they did. They only spoke about that and basically hashed it out through lyrics like Second Hand News and with cool guitar solos like in The Chain. Ended up with one of the best albums of all time.”

 

Steve nodded, not really listening. He was just watching Tony. Unashamedly. The boy broke up his speech with bites of Chinese and was gesturing wildly with his wooden chopsticks. Steve loved it. He went on and on about different songs and people and Stevie Nicks with the cocaine hole she burned in her nose and Steve just watched.

He wondered how many other people got to see this room. Got to see this Tony.

 

 

 

 

They stayed in that room for hours. Hours and hours and yeah, okay, Tony never sat still for more than five seconds but he never left, either. Neither left except for pee breaks. Steve couldn’t help feel special. He must be special, at least a bit, to be allowed this. To be permitted this kind of view into Tony’s life.

 

He learned a little about him, that night. Not much. A little. 

Mostly, he learned that they managed to disagree on _everything_ even when it came to music. He also learned, however, that Tony only ever called his dad ‘Howard’ but called his mom ‘mom’. He learned that he was always right when it came to Chinese food. He learned he was left-handed and that he didn’t sleep much and he learned that the longest he could go without insulting Steve was 4 and a half minutes. 

 

 

 

It had been a good night.

 

Then they had started arguing, again.

 

Steve couldn’t even remember what it had been about, this time. It was definitely not their first one that night, but it had gone from bad to worse when Tony had tried to take a step backward and Steve had grabbed his arm.

 

He should’ve learned, he thought. Should’ve known not to do the whole grabbing-overbearing thing, even though it was meant to be gentle and nice. It had escalated from there.

 

“Get off.” He had batted it away, his eyes going hard and cold.

Tony Stark had a temper that matched Steve’s. Which was bad.

“God, I was just touching your arm. It’s what people do! Casual contact.” Steve took a step back anyway, giving more space “Do you know what that is?”

“You _know_ I don’t, Steve. You know I’ve never fucking done shit like this before.” He hissed and gestured vaguely between the two of them.

“You don’t have to have a relationship to know what general human contact is!” 

“This isn’t a relationship!” Tony took a step forward, and for some reason what he said really bugged Steve, even though it, in fact, was not a relationship.

“It’s fucking _something_. Whatever this is, it isn’t nothing.”

“Well, what is it then?” They were still angry but Steve reckoned neither of them knew why.

“I don’t know? Everything seems to just be a joke to you. I could just be here so your ego can rest easy knowing you can still get whatever you want.”

“Don’t try and fucking manipulate me into confessing my fucking love for you or something.”

“Why do you always think I’m here to take advantage of you? This isn’t about me needing something from you. I don’t need anything from you”

“If you don’t need something from me then what the hell are you doing here?”

“Because I want to! I’m not here so that we’re even or so that I can tell people I’m dating you or, or, anything like that. Can’t you just see things for what they are? You only see this as one big game.” 

“No one ever just wants to. I know you’re bullshitting me.”

“For fuck’s sake. Did you get no fucking love as a child? Are you such an asshole that literally no one in your life has ever stuck around?”

“Did you come here to tell me that no one likes me? Because that one's a little old.”

“ _No_. I came here because I like you but you seem fucking incapable of positive emotion?”

“What do you want me to do, Steve? I went on the fucking dates and laughed at your jokes and I let you look at my fucking records? What more do you want? It’s a little fucking early for a proposal don’t you think?”

“God, I don’t want to get married. Just give me, like, give me something honest. You’re so fucking cold and you don’t even realize. Do you realize you’re fucking dead? Your insides are dead.”

“So find someone else! Find some fucking dead puppy to rescue. I can give you the fucking fun that your life clearly needs but the rest isn’t my fucking problem?” 

“Why are you agreeing to this? To these dates? Why am I bothering with you if you don’t want anything from this?”

“You fucking tell me! I figured you’d be done after the first fuck. Y’know, little wet-dream material for a few months and you’d be good but here you fucking are.”

“You’re so arrogant. For all you fucking know I’m here to help you out.”

“If that’s the case then you can leave right now. I don’t need any fucking help”

“You clearly do! Do you have any god damn friends?”

“What’re you trying to do here? What part of me is begging for pity?”

“I’m _trying_ to just get to know you but you’re making it. So. Difficult.”

“Get to know me? Fucking pick up a magazine, Steve, don’t come at me with this romance bullshit.”

“Don’t act like this is all on me! And don’t bullshit me like that. I wanted to know the real Tony Fucking Stark. Are you telling me that the selfish, shallow asshole I see in the damn news every day is the real you?”

“The real Tony Stark? You’d hate the real Tony Fucking Stark.”

“I hate _this_ Tony Stark. I hate the Tony with a stone cold mask on all the fucking time. There must be some goddamn warmth in you somewhere.”

“Steve, it’s only been fucking three dates. I don’t even know your fucking middle name.”

“I know it’s only been three dates. But its different. I know it’s different. You’re different. I know I’m not just some fuck for you. I know it. Would you just treat me like a… like a…“

 

“Like a what? A friend? A boyfriend?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Somewhere along the way, they’d gotten much closer together. That familiar adrenaline was back in Steve’s ears. Something about the boy in front of him seemed to bring it out.

 

“Really? You really fucking want that?”

“Why not?”

“Because… Because of a million reasons, Steve. For one, _I fucking hate you._ ”

“I hate you too!”

 

“So-“

“For Christ’s sake, Tony, will you be my fucking boyfriend or not?”

“Fine!” 

 

Tony sealed the deal by actually attacking Steve’s mouth. In response, Steve picked him up slightly and slammed his back hard against the wall, feeling his legs go around his waist. There was still a lot of anger between them (and a little bit of confusion, because what the hell is going on) and Steve gripped hard at Tony. 

 

“This means you can’t fuck anyone else” Steve mumbled against his lips. It was all tongue and teeth and Tony tugged angrily at Steve’s hair.

 

“I fucking know that. I’m not stupid.” More angry making out.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Would you… Fucking… Shut up?” 

 

 

 

Turns out angry sex is the best yet.

 

When they were done, when they were both lying there breathing heavily and recovering, still simmering a little with anger, Steve turned to Tony.

 

“Grant.”

“What?” 

“My middle name.”

“Oh.” Another pause while they caught their breath. “Edward.”

 

Steve thought, quietly to himself, that he should probably stop thinking of Tony’s middle name as ‘fucking’.

 

After a few more minutes, Tony put some pants on and his hoodie and wandered out of the room. He distantly heard him telling JARVIS to get started on some coffee and started wondering if JARVIS saw them. He figured no, because he was a robot, but it was still weird to think about. Steve put his own pants on and his sweater and followed suit to the kitchen. Tony was sat on the counter again with his stupid, gorgeous, stomach on show.

 

They sat together in silence for all of 8 seconds. Now that some of the sexual tension was resolved, the atmosphere was lighter but there was still some heat there. 

 

“So are we-“

“Guess so.” 

“That doesn’t make any-“

“Sense, I know.”

“I don’t even like you,” Tony admitted, pushing an espresso at Steve. 

“You’re not exactly a ray of sunshine either, Stark.” 

“Well, it was you that started this-“

“No. You left me your fucking number-“  
“That doesn’t mean I wanted to _date_ you.”

“So break up with me then!”

“Fine!”

“Fine.”

“We’re done.”

“I got that.”

 

 

They sipped their coffees for a second or two longer, the silence stretching between them.

 

Tony spoke up again.

 

“No. We’re back together again.”

“What? Who says I want to?”

“I don’t care if you want to. Break up with me if you want, but I’m not going to be the one to fucking quit.”

“Well, I’m not gonna be the one to break us up.” 

“Guess we’ll see.”

 

 

Steve had no idea what was going on.

 

“So are we-“

“Looks like.” "We've only known each other-" "For like 3 weeks. I know, Steve."

 

 

Tony left the room then, leaving Steve to think ‘what the fuck’ over and over again.

How can you simultaneously want to choke the life out of someone and want to kiss their super soft hair?

It wasn’t even like there was a split. It wasn’t like one half of his brain loved him and one half hated him, it was all one big jumble of ‘please let me hug you’ and ‘please let me punch you in the face’.

When Tony came back in, Steve looked long and hard at the dark circles under his eyes.

 

“When did you last sleep?”

He looked up and blinked, then shook his head. “Uh-uh. Nope. No momma bear shit just because you’re my boyfriend.”

 

Steve smiled a little, because just like that, things were easy and fun again. Also because there was something cool about being referred to as Tony Stark’s boyfriend.

“Are you sure? Pretty sure it’s in the job description.”

“Aw, what? Does this mean I have to care about you now?”

“Pretty much.”

“Fuck. Does it also mean I have to let you stay over again?”

“No. I’m going the fuck home and hanging out with normal people.”

“Ugh, normal people.”

“You have to hang out with them, too now.”

“You’re going to make me meet your friends?”

“Mmhmm.” Tony let out a long, loud groan, then suddenly perked up again.

“Wait. Will your hot redhead friend be there?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Can we break up for a bit while I’m with her?”

“No.”

“C’mon Steve, please?”

“You’re terrible at this boyfriend thing.”

“I’m ill practiced.”

“Guess I’m taking you out for more dates, then?”

“S’long as it's not ice skating.”

“Fine.”

 

 

 

Steve left the tower that night with a new boyfriend. His emotions were a spicy cocktail of what the fuck and what the fuck, but when he stepped out onto the cold street, he smiled a little to himself.

 

He whipped his phone out to text Bucky, sending only “I have a confession to make..” Before heading home and going to sleep because Tony Fucking Stark exhausted him.


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

They go on dates, after that. They see each other a lot more. It’s funny, really, because it was the weirdest relationship Steve had ever had. Tony Fucking Stark was the weirdest person Steve had ever met.

 

He and Tony had some of the best times. The best times in his life, he thinks sometimes, and yet it could be so _awful_. They argued all the time. They argued about everything. They argued about Tony and his impulsiveness, about his coldness, about his recklessness and drinking habits and drug abuse and general ‘flexible’ lifestyle. They argued about Steve and his rigid sensibilities, about his specific definitions of wrong and right, about his smothering tendencies and intrusive questions and entitled manner.

 

The dates were fun. Also awful.

They were an excuse to have a good time, to cut loose, to enjoy themselves and each other’s company. It was also an excuse to find each other’s insecurities and dig their fingers in.

 

Tony hated it when Steve towered over him and was dominating. Hated being controlled and being told what to do as if he was weak.

Steve hated it when Tony was disinterested and careless. Hated being treated like he was stupid and boring and he hated being poked.

 

So of course, Tony acted disinterested and careless, dismissed him and laughed him off and poked him, because Steve would grab him and act domineering and make comments about Tony’s lack of height. It was a horrible, vicious circle they’d gotten themselves in.

 

Sometimes they fought, too. Really fought. Neither threw a punch, but it would get close. All it would take was Steve being too over the top, cornering Tony and taking too much physical control and Tony would push back. 

Steve was infinitely stronger, having size on his side, but Tony had enough passion and fire in him to shift a mountain. They evened out. Frustration and anger built up until they were fighting and then they were fucking.

 

They did that a lot, too. They fought and fucked and argued and also formed a bond that Steve treasured more than his own life.

 

He struggled a little, really, because what bothered him most wasn’t the fighting. He knew Tony, sort of. Knew that Tony Fucking Stark was constantly at 100%, at everything, so their ups and downs were astronomical. He was bright and chaotic and loud and a million things and their relationship was constantly at an extreme.

 

What bothered him was the touches. He never really got to touch Tony unless it was a fight or a fuck. He wanted, a lot of the time, to hug him. Or kiss him. Or even just lay a hand on his shoulder and have it not lead to sex. Thing was, Tony just didn’t seem to know what it was. What it meant to feel casual contact. 

 

Tony Stark was sharp and hard. Tony Stark was made of pure metal and Steve faced a constant battle inside his mind in deciding what to do to soften him. To get a little look at the inside of the boy.

 

He knew it was possible. He knew he had a shot because Tony had agreed to date him. If there was one thing he knew about Tony Fucking Stark, it’s that he does what the fuck he wants. Right now, he apparently wants Steve. He must want to hang out with Steve or he just wouldn’t. Steve took that knowledge to heart and reminded himself of that fact when he felt like tearing his hair out at the stubborn firecracker in front of him. 

 

Eventually, he came to a half-hearted, pathetic beginning of a plan. He was going to exhaust Tony into willingly receiving affection. He was constantly tired, constantly awake. If Steve tired him out enough he might accept a little love.

 

They were together now. In Tony’s place like they always were. They’d just gotten back from a date if you could call it that, and were drinking out one of Tony’s liquor cabinets. They were quite the alcoholic pair. 

 

Tony hadn’t slept in days. Steve knew because he’d asked JARVIS. Which means his plan was already on the right tracks. He knew what he must do.

He was going to fuck Tony so fucking hard that he was going to be absolutely wrecked. He was going to be so fucking tired he wouldn’t be able to leave and get dressed like he always does. He wouldn’t even be able to fucking stand if Steve executed his plan like he intended.

 

 

Which he did. Now, they were in Tony’s bed. Tony was lying on his front, head looking to the side up at Steve, who leaned against the wall, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He was breathing heavily, his hair a riot of thick, black curls. He was laughing. An exhausted, breathy laugh.

 

“What the hell was that, Steve?” Dark eyes looked up at him, pupils still blown wide. Steve just smiled. Tony looked exhausted, his blinks were slow and heavy. “Fuck.” Now was his chance, Steve thought. He looked at him. Looked at the curve of his spine, looked at his smooth tan skin and muscled back. 

 

He reached out and put a hand in his hair. It’s damp and soft. Steve runs his fingers through it carefully and slowly. Tony breathes out a sigh and his eyes close.

 

I’m winning, Steve thinks.

 

He runs his fingers through his hair again, rubs his thumb behind Tony’s ear, runs it down onto his neck. He lets his fingers trail softly along his neck and onto his shoulders, presses soft lines down his back. Tony sighs again and Steve smiles. He moves his hand back to his hair, finding himself drawn to it irresistibly. It was so beautiful. A wild, tangled mess. 

 

Tony’s eyes were shut and his face looked relaxed and gentle. It was a weird sight, seeing the manic and extreme Tony in a state of such tenderness.

 

It’s funny, really, that even in possibly the most relaxing situation possible, Steve still felt such acute and immense emotion towards him. 

 

They stay like that for two or three blissful minutes. Minutes of Tony bordering on sleep. Steve had never seen him sleep, never seen him in a position so vulnerable, other than their first accidental encounter. He sorely wished it would happen.

 

This time, he did not get lucky. After those few minutes, Tony’s eyes suddenly flicked open and he sat up, smiling as if nothing had happened and slipping out of his bed. Steve watched in slight dismay as his boyfriend pulled on some pants. He knew it wouldn’t last, but he couldn’t help feeling slightly disappointed. A month of sort of dating and he still hadn’t made any progress on the ‘Is Tony Stark A Real Person With Feelings?’ front. 

That is, until Tony looks at him, long and hard. Steve can see the cogs turning. He’s making up his mind. 

 

“I want to show you something.”

Steve balked.

 

“You do?” 

 

Another pause. An unusual pause, considering the usual speed at which Tony Stark lives his life.

 

“I think so.”

 

“You think so.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Steve stares for a long time. Tony stares back. 

 

After gesturing at him to explain further, Tony blinks and snaps back into it.

 

“Right. Yes, I do. Follow me.” Tony tugged on a tank top and a hoodie, began to leave the room, still talking. “‘Scuse me being a bit slow in the head right now. I think I just got _fucked out of my damn mind._ ”

 

A laugh escaped Steve’s lips as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed because he was certain he hadn't imagined the light hobbling in Tony's walk. He followed him out into the penthouse after locating some jeans. He was by the elevator.

 

“If we’re going outside I should put a shirt on-“

 

“Right, because it would be such a tragedy for the world to get a look at those rock hard abs” Tony laughed, putting a hand on one of Steve’s pecs for a split second. Progress, Steve thought with a vicious pride.

 

They step inside and Tony presses a button that scans his fingerprint. Weird. He leans against the wall as they travel, exhaustion clear in his body language but hidden well in his expression. When the doors slide open again, Steve exhales in shock.

 

The room is beautiful. The lab, he knows. Tony’s mentioned it before. The workshop. It’s incredible. It’s all bright blue lights and weird metal objects and complexities. Steve takes another step before jerking back, thoughts and questions flooding his mind.

 

Why was he being allowed to see this?

 

“It’s okay, you can come in. It’s not a trap.” Tony wanders in, grins. Sharp as a blade and all teeth. 

 

The whole room is screaming Tony Stark. This is it. Some of the personality and life that the rest of his house should hold but doesn’t.

 

Steve looks at the objects and the scrap and the colors. He looks at Tony. Tony who is larger than life in any situation. Here, though, he isn’t larger than life. He fits in like he was born and molded here. Steve walks over to a bench. Something on it is buzzing and things all over the desk glow and hum.

 

He reaches out and touches something balanced precariously on the edge of the worktop. As soon as his fingers make contact, it sparks and goes BANG and Steve jumps back, feeling the heat burn his fingers slightly. He looks incredulously at Tony, who was laughing at him.

 

“Yeah, uh. Project I forgot about. You hurt?” Other than slightly burned fingers, Steve shakes his head.

 

“I barely even- It doesn’t even look like the worst thing- This place is so _dangerous_?” He scans the room, eyes spotting a million health risks.

 

“Occupational hazard?”

 

“Do you take any precautions?” 

 

“Guess.”

 

“This is- You get all those fucking burn marks and bruises and stuff from working, don’t you?” He gestures to Tony’s arms, which had always been rough and scarred. Steve didn’t know why he had just assumed that they had always been a part of him.

 

“Yeah, mostly. Those bruises weren’t _all_ you.” Somehow, those words didn’t make him feel guilty. Instead, a sick sense of pride swelled in him. He watched Tony closely as they talked. It was funny watching him trying to resist the half-finished projects that lay scattered about.

The more he talked, the longer and longer his glances became when he looked at them. After a minute, he was just glancing up at Steve while he casually fiddled with bits and pieces and then another two minutes had him talking to himself and completely ignoring Steve as he began piecing together a weird robotic thing.

 

 

Steve excused himself unnecessarily, setting himself loose to roam the lab. More eccentric technologies and half-finished wonders, decorated lavishly with an immoral amount of coffee cups. In the far corner of the room, there’s a sofa and large flat screen TV, a mini kitchen with a coffee machine and small fridge full of beer. It was a mess. On the walls, there were some framed posters, pictures of cars and people and some newspaper clippings. 

 

This was more like it. This was the kind of life Steve wished showed itself in Tony’s penthouse or his bedroom or somewhere. Tony wasn’t in any of the pictures, nor did they appear to be of family or friends. Steve didn’t mind because it was a start. 

Asking Tony if he could have a beer was useless as he received jumbled nonsense in response. He took it for a yes and helped himself. Further around the corner, tucked behind a wall, Steve’s internal organizational instincts contacted in pain. It was just a load of shelves and a load of paper and everything was a mess. Stacks and stacks of paper. In a mess. A big old mess of stacks of paper.

Steve teared up a little. God, this was awful. Organizational hell. 

 

Or… the greatest organizational challenge of all. He probably had a few hours to kill anyway if Tony carried on like this.

 

“Tony? Can I clean up all these massive stacks of paper?”

 

“What?” Came the mumbled response. “Oh, yeah. Knock yourself out.”

 

“I’m gonna organize them.”

 

“I’m not gonna pay you.”

 

Steve grabbed a few more beers and set to work.

 

 

 

 

 

Tony was rich _as fuck_. Steve was rifling through all his accounts and files that Tony had deemed too boring and uninteresting. He should really hire a PA or something. A PA with a very high patience.

Most of it was mindless stuff, but it only took Steve an hour to hit a goldmine. There was a group of papers wrapped loosely in an elastic band. A thick stack that required two hands to pick up.

 

‘Psychiatric report: Anthony Stark

Age: 4’

 

 

Steve flipped some more pages. 

 

‘Psychiatric report: Anthony Stark

Age: 7’

 

They went on like that, every few years there was another one. Around age 16, there became huge variations in the format. Around age 16 Tony had started needing several professional opinions.

He couldn’t look. Wouldn’t look. Should not look at something so invasive and personal. Steve would not look, he decided.

 

 

 

Needless to say, Steve looked.

 

It started off a little weird, but it’s Tony Fucking Stark so what would you expect?

 

Clear signs of genius, insatiable curiosity, talkative but seemingly ill-practiced, good gage on humor. Evidence of ADHD, superior intelligence, good with shapes and numbers. Strangely cynical responses to personal questions, absolutely no information provided by the child about home life or parents. Mentions of ‘Jarvis’ which made Steve think about J.A.R.V.I.S.

 

When he was 7, the reports focussed less on Tony’s intelligence, seemingly because Tony had already pronounced himself genius enough for it to be left unsaid. The report focussed on things like Tony’s apathy. He was, apparently, still vague about home life, was still witty and sharp but with a harsher edge to the humor. They described him as too emotionally mature for so young. Seemingly stunted in his ability to relate but excellent at mimicking the emotions that he thinks they want to see, he made every evaluation they have of him doubtful in case he was just putting it on.

 

 

As he got older, more and more reports started to coalesce around this unknown problem. Each different therapist or psychiatrist or whatever seemed to agree on only two things: There was _something_ wrong and Tony Stark was totally unwilling to co-operate and help them figure it out. There was much speculation, though.

Autism was a possibility, but he was considered too charming and too manipulative. Too good an understanding of other human’s emotions. Sociopathy, maybe. Psychopathy, possibly. Childhood trauma. 'The curse of Genius’. Hostile childhood environment. Narcissism, Anti-social personality disorder. Attention deficits. The lists of possibilities went on.

 

Reading Tony’s reports was like reading the news, only worse. Each one talked about narcissism and self-destructive tendencies and manipulation, compulsive behavior, lying, low boredom tolerance, under eating and extreme insomnia. Cold, calculating, mocking, drug abusing, alcohol dependency originating from a young age.

There were school reports too. Records of the countless boarding schools that Tony had managed to get expelled from. Sadly, there were no accounts of what he had done to deserve them.

 

In the reports that took place after the date of the Starks’ death, there became much more speculation of child abuse and trauma. However, after the death of his parents, Tony no longer seemed forced to attend the psych reviews and he had never spoken of home life even when he had to. 

 

 

Steve sat back and thought, long and hard. Mostly, he thought about how it must have sucked to have all those reviews, so many people poking and prodding at your brain determined to what was wrong with you. Maybe if-

 

He’s cut off from his thought by a massive **_BANG_**. He jerked to his left in time to see Tony fly into view and smash hard into the wall. Steve saw the light of the explosion before he felt the heat of it. He got up instinctively, eyes widening when he saw that Tony was _on fucking fire_.

 

“ _Fuck_.”

 

“What the hell, Tony?” He yelled, running over. Before he got there, a small arm-like machine rolled over at full speed with a fire extinguisher at the ready.

 

“DUM-E no-“ Tony tried to say from his position on the floor but he was instantly doused in white cloud, cutting him off effectively. In the back of his mind, Steve filed away the idea for future use. Tony Stark shuts up for 2 seconds when you spray him with an extinguisher. Only two seconds though. “DUM-E you stupid fuck I’m not on fire anymore! You can stop!”

 

The arm wheeled away and Tony sat up, covered in white. “I’m selling you to a school.” He said bitterly. The arm beeped.

 

“Are you alright?” Steve asked, sitting down beside his boyfriend and checking him over. He had smashed into the wall super hard. He stank of burned clothes and when Steve put a hand over the back of his head it came back bloody. “You’re blee-“

 

“I’m fine, Rogers.” Tony gets up, brushing out white from his hair and shrugging off the remains of his hoodie. His tank was pretty singed as well.

 

“You should take that off” Mostly because he wanted to check over Tony’s back, but also the whole shirtless thing would definitely be a bonus. 

 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Steve wishes he could rely on Tony’s humor as a sign that he was okay, but he swayed slightly as he said it and subtly put a hand on the wall to support himself.

 

“You need to go to a hospital.” At the suggestion, Tony frowned almost reflexively and shook his head. He swallowed.

 

“Nope.”

 

“Tony-“

 

“No.”

 

“Would you just-“

 

“No.” 

 

“Argh.” Tearing his hair out had never been so tempting. He almost gave in, about to back off, when Tony stumbled and accidentally clutched Steve’s arm. “You’re going to a hospital.”

 

“I would rather die.”

 

“So this is a common occurrence?”

 

“It’s happened before.”

  
“When?”

 

“Uh, yesterday?”

 

“How bad was it?”

 

“See that crack in the wall-“

 

“You’re going to bed.”

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

“Yes, you are.”

 

“Gonna make me?”

 

Steve thought for a minute.

 

“Yes.” 

 

He went to grab him but Tony dodged out of the way at the last second. A small smile crept across his lips and Steve couldn’t decide if he should slap it away or kiss it away.

 

“I hate you.”

 

“I hate you too, Steve.” 

 

They chased each other around like children for several minutes until Tony tripped over a piece of metal and landed flat on his face. He tried to scramble away, laughing, but Steve gripped him firmly and hauled him up, cornering him against a workbench. Tony recoiled instantly and withdrew into himself, the way he always does, but Steve didn’t plan on trying to intimidate him or some shit. He spun them around, so he was against the workbench but kept Tony securely in his arms. 

 

This time, when he kissed him, he took it slowly. A little like the one they had shared in the kitchen the morning after their first ever date. The only time he had ever stayed over. It was a nice kiss. Gentle and soft and Steve couldn’t keep his hands to himself as they trailed up Tony’s sides and up his neck, into his hair…

 

“Ew.” There was blood on his fingers. How could he have fucking forgotten about that?

 

“You flatter me, Steve,” Tony says, pulling back and looking a little… frazzled? A little blank and a little confused but definitely not unhappy. Steve wasn’t sure. Hard to get a read on this guy.

 

“You’ve still got blood in your hair.” 

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“You-“

 

“Toughest part of the skull.” Tony nodded knowingly, backing away out of Steve’s reach. He sighed in response, accepting that offering help was not going to work. “It’s late, Steve. You heading home soon?” 

 

He didn’t really want to. Kind of wanted to stay with Tony forever. He nodded though. 

 

“If I go home do you promise to shower and go to bed?”

“No.”

“If I go home do you promise to text me so I know you’re alive?”

“You got it.”

 

Steve would take what he could get. They both headed towards to elevator.

 

 

 

Later, when Tony stood on the street with him in the cold night air, Steve braced himself tightly and tried to get himself together. He wasn’t really okay with leaving Tony like this. Fucking head injury and all. 

 

“I’m gonna see you tomorrow, gotta check in to make sure you’re breathing.”

 

“You worry too much.”

 

“It’s called caring, Tony.”

 

“Sounds like some gay shit to me.”

 

“Is it my turn to pull the ‘I had my cock in your mouth’ card?”

 

“Just saying.”

 

“So you’re just allergic to feelings.”

 

“Yep. Makes my cold, dead heart shrivel up even more.”

 

“Okay, edgelord.”

 

“You gonna leave or you gonna stand here mocking me?”

 

“Just triple checking. Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?”

 

“How many am I holding up, Steve?” He laughed slightly as Tony raised his middle finger. He wondered over to his motorbike. Tony trailed a little behind. 

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Or, today I guess. It’s really late.”

 

“You sound like a granny.”

 

“So you’re into older ladies?”

 

“Ask your mom.”

 

“Comedic gold.”

 

“It’s the Stark way.” Steve got onto his bike, clipped on the helmet.

 

“1 o’clock. The coffee house on the end of my street.”

 

“Sir, yes, sir. Will Dodge be coming?”

 

“Yep. My friends will be there too. You’re gonna meet them.”

 

“Wait what-“ Steve sped off before Tony could protest, grinning slightly.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUM FILLER chapter bc we needed some tony-meets-steves-friends action aye

The coffee shop was warm and cozy. Steve was still buzzing after his work out and was always a little excited to see his friends all in one place. It was 1:15 and Tony was, obviously, late but Steve didn’t mind. He was weirdly nervous about Tony meeting his friends, considering Nat had already met him and Sam sort of met him. Buck was not going to like him, he had already decided on it, but he was here anyway.

It was 1:25 when Tony turned up. Dodger noticed him first and immediately perked up. He was just visible out the window, talking to some blond that Steve vaguely recognized from the drag race and some of Tony’s online party pictures. Dodger and Tony were probably closer than Steve and Tony. They adored each other. Once, Steve woke up at 4 am to find his boyfriend had broken into his house just to see his dog. The only thing _Steve_ had gotten that night was a ‘hey steve’.

“Here’s ya boo,” Sam commented as Tony walked toward the door. When he came in he flashed a wink at the group and went to grab a coffee before sitting down.

As he came over, he scooped Dodge into his arms and sat down. The faint smell of weed made Steve’s stomach drop slightly, but he didn’t think anyone else could smell it.

“Hey, Tony. You know everyone, right?” Tony leaned back in his chair between Steve and Nat, kicking his leg up onto Steve’s chair. With a quick scan of the three of them, he sipped pensively on his coffee.

“Therapist Boy,” He nodded at Sam, making Steve wonder what he had done to deserve that nickname but was entirely unsurprised. Sam was such a nosy fuck. “Red,” A wink at Natasha, “Grease lightening.”

Bucky raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the nickname, flicking some of the (only slightly greasy) hair out of his eyes. Steve winced a little. God, they were not going to get on. 

“This is Bucky, Tony,” he added, knowing the nicknames were an alibi for not remembering their real names. “That’s Sam and this is Nat.”

“I remember Tash.”

“You do?” She asks casually.

“Had my head between your thighs, remember?” 

“Right and that’s such a rare occurrence for you,”

“Hey, thighs like that and I’ll get your name fucking tattooed.”

“Tony,” Steve felt compelled to cut in, “Stop flirting with my friends.” His boyfriend held up his hands in surrender, smiling slightly.

“So Stark,” Bucky leaned forward and Sam whispered ‘here we go’, “What are your intentions with Steve?”

“Bondage,” Tony said without missing a beat. Steve winced. “I’ll keep it safe, don’t worry. Some light gagging, bit of knife play. Nothing too hardcore.”

“I’m serious, Stark.”

“Alright, fine.” At the intro, Steve almost believed Tony was going to be serious. Almost. “My intentions are only to use him for a few weeks. Once I’ve gotten a few decent fucks and he’s fully in love with me then I’ll ditch him and shred his heart into tiny pieces. In fact, I’m already getting bored of him. It won’t be long now and you can have him back.”

“Have you slept with anyone else since you’ve been together?”

“What’s with the third degree?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Y’know, by all typical social standards, I’m pretty sure Steve’s the sexual predator here, not me. I’m barely even not-a-minor anymore.”

“Answer the question.”

“Bucky, love, I know you want a piece but you’re gonna have to ask Steve. I’m not usually much of a sharer but I might be able to make an exception again. There was this one time, Red you’ll love this story, so these two girls-“

“I don’t think we need to hear about your sex life, Stark.” Sam cut in, smiling slightly. Natasha looked slightly dismayed that she wouldn’t get to hear the story.

“I’m just trying to make it juicy for that woman over there who’s recording us on her phone.” Tony jerked his head behind him and they all looked over in time to see a woman shove a phone into her purse, looking guilty and flushed. She got up to leave.

“Why was she-“

“Because he’s Tony Fucking Stark,” Sam explained. Tony grinned.

“Probably gonna sell it to the news. Everyone wants to know what’s goin’ on down below.” Dodger was put slowly on the floor by a reluctant Tony. Instantly, he curled up around his foot.

“So are you always this much of an asshole?” Sam asked and Steve wished for once in his life that everything would just go smoothly. 

“Yeah. I mean, I’m rich and a genius and hot so I kinda struck out on the whole good personality thing. It’s karmic retribution or something. Cosmic science.” Tony tapped the side of his head knowingly and Steve felt relief flood through him at Sam’s smile.

“That makes no sense,” Bucky commented, eyes narrowing.

“Sure it does. What’s your excuse, faccia di culo?” Steve’s insides clenched because _for fuck’s sake_. This was supposed to go a lot better.

“Did you just call Bucky an ass face?” Natasha asked, her Italian knowledge kicking in. Tony hummed in response.

“The famous Stark charm.” Sam laughed and Bucky just continued to scowl.

“Am I here just for a shovel talk by the way? Because I’ve already had several so if that’s it can I go-” Tony stretched out as if to leave and Steve frowned in confusion.

“You have?”

“One from therapist Sam, when he ran me over outside a club.” Sam shrugged apologetically. Steve just shot him a look because he hadn’t told him about that. “Two from complete strangers I have never met before. Said they were your friends or some shit. And one from someone calling me at 7 in the morning telling me not to hurt her son.” 

“Oh fuck.” Steve rubbed his eyes. Why was his mom so protective? How did she even know?

“As well as that, about 3 newspapers have already claimed you as their own, several strangers who don’t even know you, and I’m certain that whenever Dark And Brooding here gets me alone he’s gonna fucking waterboard me into never seeing you again.”

“That’s a lot of shovel talks,” Sam commented and Steve remained silent in shock. People really hate Tony.

“Steve, have you ever had any shovel talks?” 

“Uh, no?” Steve hadn’t had a shovel talk in his life. He supposed he had a trustworthy face. Tony did not.

“Okay, well if you ever hurt Tony I’ll cut your throat out.” All four of them looked at her in surprise. 

“Nat, you’re supposed to be _my_ friend.” Steve pointed out indignantly.

“I had to even it out somehow. I’m his new best friend.” Tony turned to look smugly at Steve, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Wh- Nat, you can’t do that. You’ve only met twice!” 

“I can do what I want, Steve. So, if you break Tony’s heart I’ll teach you the real meaning of pain” she smirked at him and Steve silently decided that these two were never ever to meet again nor to ever bond because the pair of them would almost definitely make his life hell. Tony muttered 'kinky'.

“I don’t think I _can_ break his heart. Do you even have one?” He directed at Tony, who shrugged absently. 

“I think… that Natasha and Tony should never meet again.” Sam was watching the interaction with a small smile.

“Why? She’s my best fucking friend, Samuel. You yourself told me I should start forming regular friendship bonds.”

“What? When did you tell him that?” Steve could not take much more of this. Having them meet was a terrible idea.

“During our therapy session outside the club. When he ran me over.” 

“I’m surprised you even remember that. You were so drunk you told me you’d been sick on a cat.” 

“Mm… Turns out it was a raccoon.” 

“Oh, I remember seeing that on your Twitter hashtag.” Natasha was smiling and now Steve was thinking that maybe the world was ending.

“I have a twitter hashtag?”

“Yeah, man. You have loads. Other than your regular one you have #curetonystark where everyone just tweets about shit you’ve done and tries to find you a cure. #whytonystarkissingle, which is a bit inappropriate now but y’know. There’s also #andithoughtiwasbad. But my personal favorite is #myweirdsontony”

 Apparently, Sam knew about this too. Bucky was being abnormally quiet, but Steve was thankful for it. The guy was probably not gonna be nice if he spoke. Tony was already on his phone, apparently looking at the hashtags. He whistled at the pictures that came up.

“The press is so bored of me being a fuck up. Me turning up here in a goddamn coffee shop is probably the most interesting thing to ever happen.”

“Would you rather we met up somewhere more ‘you’? I’m sure there’s an opium den somewhere near here.” Bucky commented sardonically and Tony only laughed.

“There is actually, but I’m not really a heroin fan.” 

 

After that, things went smoothly. A few snipes from Bucky and Tony but otherwise the group got on just fine. In the end, Tony only stayed for about half an hour. He hardly sat still during their time together anyway, but Steve was eternally grateful that he had come and made a little bit of an effort. For Tony Fucking Stark, that meant a lot. He was a little harsh with his friends, but they gave almost as good as they got.

 

 

Tony joined them more, after that. Never for very long and usually only if Dodger was also going to be there, but he did come sometimes. Often, he smelled of weed or was drinking from a hip flask, and Steve could only sigh and be passive aggressive about it. 

The more they hung out, the more Tony and Bucky argued. Sometimes, it bordered on weird flirting and sometimes it took a weird competitive edge but Steve could not for the life of him figure it out. At times, they even seemed to be getting along, bonding over their shared stubbornness and wit.

 

Things were not helped by the time that Tony had called him ‘Bucket’, that’s for sure.

 

A few more weeks and the pair seemed to be on the brink of something. Whether it was literal war or a passionate love affair and a lifelong friendship, Steve didn’t know. Tony had joined them at a bar, late of course.

“What’s up, fuckers?” He slid into the booth with them, next to Steve and opposite Bucky, who’d tried to glare but the boy had fucking brought another round of drinks with him. How could you glare at an angel who did that?

“Did you get an ear piercing?” Steve asked casually. He didn’t greet his boyfriend with a kiss or anything cutesy like that. Tony raised a hand to his ear in confusion, eyes widening with realization at feeling the black stud there.

“Oh shit. Guess so.” He scanned the table quickly, before addressing them all. “Hey… Want to play a game?”

 

‘This is what death feels like,’ Steve thought. 'I am dying.’ He also thought. ‘I am never playing a drinking game with Tony Stark ever again.’

It had actually started off as a game, then it was just a competition, then just a showdown between Tony and Bucky.

They had all held out pretty well, considering. Tony had gotten practically the whole bar involved, but now it was just the two of them left. Bucky was practically a tank when it came to alcohol and Tony was… well, Tony, so this was going to be interesting,

Now, their whole table was covered in shot glasses, stacked and crammed but all empty. The bartender was sat with them, pouring and passing on shots and a fairly large crowd had gathered to watch.

Just the two of them, facing off, with enough alcohol in each of them to kill a lesser man. The people around them hummed and whistled as Tony picked up and drained his glass in one, slamming it back down and smiling a little at Bucky. A lock of hair fell down on to his face.

 

Steve found it a little weird to be so attracted to him right now.

 

It was Bucky’s turn now and the crowded ‘ooh’d as he slowly picked up his own drink, bringing it slowly to his face. His eyes remained trained on the liquid as he tipped it back and swallowed twice. He winced and the crowd cheered.

The next one they did at the same time, or tried to. The crowd slammed their hands down on the wood in a strong beat as they each took another one. Once it was done and they each chucked their glasses away, Bucky looked at Tony with what looked like respect for maybe the first time ever. 

“Where did you learn to drink like that?” He slurred over the noise. Tony only smirked in response. “You’re fucking tiny, man. You should be _dead_.” 

Tony shrugged.

 

“No seriously. Where the fuck you learn to drink like that, kid? S’unnatural. Wrong.”  Tony shrugged again, smiling. He picked up another drink as Natasha slumped against Steve’s shoulder.

"Please. I've been drinking since I was nine."

“He was already drunk when he turned up,” She pointed out quietly. Steve nodded dumbly. “Your boyfriend’s fucking crazy.” 

Steve nodded again. The world swam.

Bucky looked to be on the edge of passing out, as any normal person would already have done, but was clinging to consciousness through sheer stubbornness alone.

“God, maybe I _do_ like you.” Bucky winced as he downed another shot. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve wondered if this was dangerous. Yes, Sam answered him, it was. He had said that out loud.

“I knew I’d grow on you,” Tony responded immediately, a mouth full of whatever it was they were drinking. 

“Like a wart.” The slur was prominent in Bucky’s tone, he swayed slightly and almost fell sideways.

“You love me really,” Smiling, Tony looked up at his opponent. The orange glow of the light framed his face beautifully, dark shadows cast under his jawline and cheek bones. Steve stared, swaying slightly but still ‘heart-eyes’ing. God his boyfriend was hot. Super fucking hot. Also stupid. How on earth was it possible to drink that much?

Bucky stood up, beginning to say something about going to vomit before he passed out flat on the floor.

 

Immediately, the crowd cheered and started handing over the money they’d bet to each other. Steve moved to haul Bucky off the ground while Tony celebrated with another shot.

Sam had designated himself sobriety for the night, which was lucky because Natasha could barely open her eyes and Steve was almost as much of a dead weight as Bucky was. He herded them out of the bar while Tony paid. The bartender fucking thanked him.

 

On the plus side, there is now a photo of a grinning, rumpled looking Tony Stark doing the peace sign next to an unconscious Bucky Barnes framed on the Wall of Fame.

In the cold night air, the three of them trudge down the road, Sam carrying Bucky. Tony, like the kind and clever guy that he is, realizes that their places are miles away and drunkenly offers to let them stay at his.

 

 

Steve wakes up with a headache he’s beginning to associate with Tony Stark.

He rolled over and off the couch, landing solidly on the floor with a thump and a groan. God, that’s some sweet nausea. Blearily, he opens his eyes to the sight of three of his best friends, lying on his boyfriend’s sofas. Tony was not there, but there was the sound of cluttering and crashing from somewhere near the kitchen area.

With some difficulty, Steve sat up and looked over. Tony was there, fully dressed and hair styled, drinking coffee and blindly trying to get things together without taking his eyes off of the tablet in his hand.

“Morning, sunshine,” He greeted, without looking up. Steve grunted in response and hoisted himself up. When he sat down on a stool at the breakfast bar, Tony wordlessly pushed over a vanilla latte. 

Through his headache and sickness, Steve couldn’t quell the thought that Tony Stark was, although a handful at best, probably the best thing that ever happened to him. He couldn’t even pinpoint why. Tony was a mess, he was rude and dismissive and they didn’t even have a close relationship by typical standards.

Yet… It was definitely something. He was too much and too loud and too everything but Steve couldn’t really imagine not being with him now that they were together. It was definitely… weird.

“Okay, I gotta head out-“ 

“What? You’re not gonna wait till everyone’s up and outta your house?” Steve asked, eyes trained on Tony’s ever moving body. He hadn’t slept. Steve could just tell. 

He was also smoking a joint, almost definitely just to annoy Steve.

“Not really a slumber party kinda gal. When the sleeping beauties wake up you can help yourselves to coffee or whatever. Get Jarvis to order in if you’re desperate, otherwise, there’s a platinum contactless on the coffee table so you can go wherever you want and it’s on me.” Tony was almost about to leave when Steve spoke again, out of pure shock.

“You’re really kind? And generous?”  Tony paused and looked around, eyebrow raised.

“Are you still drunk?” He snorted dismissively and Steve found himself gearing up to argue the point.

“No. I mean, maybe. But no. You’re… You’re really nice.”

“Steve,” He exhaled the smoke, “I’ve been called a lot of things. Nice, generous, and kind, are not any of them.” 

“But you… you always pay for everything and you get the drinks every time you hang out with my friends and… and you actually hang out with my friends! When you don’t have to. And you bought me that jacket without telling me it was from fucking Louis Vuitton and, God, you make the coffee I like without me asking and I know you hacked my internet history to find out what things I like so that when we go on dates you know where to go and what to get as a present. You bought Dodger dog food because I casually mentioned that we were running low” The more that Steve talked, the more he realized. It was quite shocking to realize these things.

“Steve, I gotta stop you. I pay for shit because I’m rich and because if I don’t, people get the crap stuff. I bought you the jacket because all your clothes are ugly, JARVIS is the one that figures everything out it’s not me.” He dismissed casually, insulting Steve’s clothes for good measure.

“So if I open the fridge, the beer that you hate and I love won’t be there? And you didn’t keep the wooden noodle sticks from the takeouts we get because you know I can’t use proper ones?” Tony froze. He was stuck.

“Well-“

“HA. You’re a nice person.” Steve mocked because he had won. Either Tony had to admit to being a nice person or had to admit that Steve was special. 

“No-“

“So you’re just doing this for me?” Batting his eyelashes for good measure, Steve almost forgot about his body wracking hangover. Almost.

“Don’t get cocky, Rogers.” Tony looked irritated. He stubbed his joint out and chucked it in the sink. “I can drop you at any point.”

“But you won’t.”

“How’d you figure that?”

“Because I’m irresistible.”

“Guess again.”

“Because I told you right at the beginning of our relationship that you would be the one to dump me and you’re determined to prove me wrong?”

“Correct.”

“That’s it?”

“For all you know.” Steve stood up and walked towards him. He slipped up onto the counter, the way Tony always does, and tried to look cute and innocent despite his hungover state.

“So you don’t want me at all, in any romantic sense?” He teased.

“Does wanting to fuck you on the top of my kitchen count as romantic?” Steve smothered a grin as Tony walked back over towards him, all thoughts of leaving forgotten. Hook line and sinker?

“Uh, no. Plus my friends are right over there.” Tony came and stood between Steve’s thighs, a whole head smaller than him. Fuck that’s cute. He has to put his head back to look Steve in the eyes. He was on tip toes as well, in a lame attempt at balancing it out.

This is domestic as fuck. 

“So what do I have to do to qualify as romantic? Is there a criteria?”

“No offense, Tony, but you’re the least romantic person I’ve ever met.” Tony tried to look offended, but it wasn’t a good look on him.

“Bullshit. I could out romance you anyway.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

“I will.”

“Go on then.”

“I’ll show you.”

“Fine.”

“Tomorrow at 7. Prepare to be wooed."

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m gonna show you how it’s done, first. Tonight.” Steve demanded, trailing his hands up Tony’s sides, along his arms. 

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

 

Tony did leave, then. Probably because Steve was being touchy-feely and cute. It took another 25 minutes for him to make a surprise return, carrying shopping bags full of eggs and peppers and other omelet ingredients.  
“Who _are_ you?” Steve whispered. Tony just put a finger to his lips, winked, then disappeared again.

Another hour after that, the others woke up. Steve was still internally stunned at the mental image of Tony Stark at a supermarket buying eggs. And Vegetables.

“Where’s our tiny landlord?” Sam asked, ambling up. Natasha draped herself into a seat, placing her head gently on the table. 

“Gone already.” Steve shrugged, having shaken off most of his hangover.

“What’ve we got to eat?” Bucky wandered in and started opening cupboards at random. “Beer. Beer. Gin. Whiskey. Vodka. Beer. Beer. Gin. Beer. Vodka and vodka. And beer.” 

“I’ll take one of everything.” A muffled voice came from under the mop of red hair. 

“Does this guy ever eat? What else has he got?” He rifled through some more cupboards, only finding a lot of coffee and some out of date orange juice. Nobody commented on his braided hair.

“Uh, we got fresh ingredients for omelets.” Steve unloaded them up onto the counter. The cooker looked like it had never been used once. As if by itself, the coffee machine whirred to life. Nobody commented.

“So where’s short stuff?” Bucky sidled into a seat as Steve passed Sam an almond milk cappuccino, the way he liked it. 

“No clue. I wouldn’t let him catch you calling him that, though.”

“What’s he gonna do? He comes up to less than my shoulder.” Bucky snorted but the others looked a little pitying.

“Uh, drink you under the table again?” 

“He didn’t beat me by that much.” There was an indignant note in his voice.

“Buck, honey, you passed out and when we got back he cracked open a bottle of tequila for ‘the main course’.” Natasha shut him down in one sentence, wrapping her hands preciously around the cup of gingerbread latte that Tony’s coffee machine had made for her.

“I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

“He braided your hair, too.” Bucky’s head jerked upwards, a hand instantly reaching for the two plaits down the back of his head. They were surprisingly well done. He looked furious, but for some reason, he didn’t take them out.

“Where did he even learn to braid?” 

“Fuck that, guys. We’re in Tony Fucking Stark’s New York penthouse? We are living the definition of luxury, lads.” Sam grinned, “I’m gonna go take a bubble bath or some shit.”

Steve highly doubted that Tony had bubble bath, but he did have a jacuzzi.

 

He knows because the pair of them had spent a fantastic 3 hours in it together.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI hears my pathetic attempt at trying not to let this fic slip into a crack fic

 

At 7 pm, like always, Steve stood outside the tower. He rang Tony.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up a… Tony Snark?” 

“Very witty.”

“Are you ready?”

“Do you have to ask?” 

“I’m coming up. Make me a drink.”

“Can’t, in the shower.”

“Then I’m coming up and joining you.”

“Is that romantic? You’re not setting a good example.”

“Fuck.”

“Mm.”

“So no shower sex?” 

“To be fair, it didn’t end well last time.” Steve nodded, vaguely aware that Tony couldn’t see him. The elevator opened and he could distantly hear the sound of water running. He waited by the door for ages.

Eventually, Tony came out and stared at him.

“You brought flowers.”

“Yes.” He walked forward, handing over the roses or lilies or tulips or whatever they were. Tony dumped them on the side. “I’m being romantic.”

“Ohh. Got a Cadillac out there you’re about to take me for a spin in? Am I gonna take your arm? Hang on, let me get my heels.” Tony was joking, but Steve’s filthy mind really, really wanted to see Tony in heels.

“Do they match your handbag?” 

“You know they do. Fuck I’d be such a classy girl.” Tony drained Steve’s drink and shrugged on a coat, running a hand through his hair.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Care to prove it?” Steve asked in an attempt at nonchalance. He hadn’t even thought about this kind of thing before but suddenly it was _very_ important to him. Tony stared at him a long moment, before cracking out in a wide grin.

“Hey, if you’re into that.” He shrugged and they stepped into the elevator, “Where are we going?”

“Can’t ruin the surprise, huh?”

“Really? Still?”

“You betcha. We’re getting the bus.” Tony looked horrified.

“But Steve… There are… There are _normies_ on the bus. Can I at least know where we’re going?”

“Say please,” Steve said and Tony shot him a look. 

“No.”

“Then you don’t get to find out.” Tony sighed. 

“You’re a control freak.”

“You like it.”

“I’m not gonna say please.”

“Then you’re not gonna find out.”

“Fine. Please, daddy?”

“Daddy? Really?”

“You’re blushing. You like being called daddy.”

“That doesn’t mean I like being called daddy.”

“You haven’t denied it.”

“I never implied I was into the daddy thing.”

“Non-denial denial. You’re totally into it.”

“Tony-“

“Can you just tell me where we’re going? I said please and everything.”

“I changed my mind.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t, princess.” 

“Princess?” 

“You like it.”

“I never said I liked it.”

“You haven’t denied it.”

“I never implied I was into being called princess.”

“Non-denial denial. You’re into it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you too, princess.”

 

Gradually, they got to the bus stop. Tony Fucking Stark at a bus station. Steve laughed internally.

They argued the whole journey, too, though if you asked either of them, neither would be able to tell you what it was about.  
“Can't believe after all these dates I still can’t know where we’re going.” 

“What do you mean ‘all these dates’ we’ve only been on like 5.”

“It can’t be 5. We’ve been dating for ages.”

“Yeah, but only 5 dates.”

“Bullshit. We’ve been on loads.”

“I was disqualifying the ones where we ended up just getting drunk or arrested. Or the ones where my friends ended up coming.”

“Why? Those were some of the best ones.”

“You’ve gotten me banned from all of my favorite places in New York. I’m not counting any of those dates.”

“So we’re not gonna get drunk _or_ arrested on this date?” 

“Damn right.” Tony looked disappointed. “Aw, don’t worry princess. We can still have fun without getting drunk or arrested.”

“Stop calling me princess.”

“Right, sorry kitten.”

“Kitten?”

“Doll.”

“Don’t Brooklyn me.”

“Sugar.”

“I said don’t Brooklyn me!”

“Well, which of those do you prefer?”

“None!” 

 

They got off the bus.

“Steve. This is your fucking street. I could’ve just met you here.”

“That wouldn’t be very romantic, though, would it Sugar?”

“Buses aren’t romantic either.” Steve shrugged and led Tony in the opposite direction to his flat, towards some sushi restaurant at the end of his street. In a moment of bravery, Steve grabbed his hand. Tony looked at their joined hands, then at Steve, with extreme skepticism before giving in. 

“Ooh. Dodgy sushi. Very romantic.” 

“You got me banned from all the nice places.”

“I did not-“

“Stop whining.” 

“If I stop whining will you let go of my hand?” 

“What’s the matter, Princess? Afraid of a little-“ He swung Tony into his arms, tipped him back like in a ballroom “… Intimacy?” 

Tony scowled.

“Put me down, Rogers.” 

Steve dropped him on his ass on the sidewalk.

“You asshole.”

 

Dinner was nice. Tony called Steve ‘daddy’ the whole way through and, in return, Steve only ever referred to him as a princess. 

“Well, this princess is going to go take a dump.” Tony said, lifting himself out of his chair and disappearing off, waving away Steve’s ‘behave!’.

About 5 minutes later, some guy leaned over and tapped his shoulder. It only took Steve a second to recognize him.

“Scott? Scott Lang?”

“The one and only! How are you doing man?”

“I’m go-“

“I actually don’t really care, dude, sorry. Are you with Tony Fucking Stark? Like on a date?”  Steve blinked.

“Yeah, uh. Yeah, I am.”  
“Is he even legal?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? _Yes_.” Scott raised his hands in defense.

“Look, man, it’s been a while since we talked but can I offer you some advice?” _No_ , Steve thought. Scott talked anyway. “That guy’s like… a massive asshole. Everyone knows that. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” 

Steve, despite the fact that Tony _was_ an asshole, found himself readying a powerpoint on why he wasn’t it. 

“Have you ever actually met him?” When Scott shook his head, Steve powered on. “Well,” Steve could almost hear Sam saying ‘here we go’, “If you ever actually met him, you’d know, rather than just assuming from shitty news articles, that he’s not an asshole. He’s pretty cool actually and, what no one will ever want you to believe is, he’s actually really sweet”

Steve was lying through his teeth now but he didn’t care. “Like, really sweet. No one ever sees that, but he’s very cute.” 

“Yeah, I’m adorable.” Tony appeared, wiping blood off his face, and slid into his seat.

All that came to Steve’s mind was ‘are you fucking kidding me’. With Scott immediately forgotten, he leaned over and put a hand to where the blood was flooding from, just above Tony’s eyebrow. In the corner of his eye, Lang retracts and goes back to his own table. A brief and weird interaction. 

“Why the hell are you bleeding? You can’t even go and take a piss without getting yourself into shit, can you? I’m gonna get you a goddamn leash.”

“Okay, first of all, kinky.” Steve glared, standing up completely and putting a napkin up to Tony’s face, only to have it batted away, “Second of all, it absolutely was _not_ my fault.”

“Honey, no offense, but I do not believe you in the slightest.”

“‘honey’ is a new one. Are we going back to the 60s?” Tony kept trying to push him away but Steve is what many would call a ‘relentless mother hen’. 

“Tell me what happened.”

“Would you believe me if I said I walked into the door?” Steve glared and Tony smirked that irritating smirk, “Ooh, daddy have I been naughty?”

“What happened?” 

“Well-“

“What. Happened.” Mom voice. Works every time. Tony sighed.

“Someone was talking shit.”

“About you? Where are they-“ Steve stood up, protective mode engaged. Tony put a hand on his chest.

“No. About you.” Steve suddenly paused. Then sat back down, smirking.

“Aw, you got beat up for me!”

“No, I _beat_ up for you. All I got was a lil cut. He’s now… He’s now… Hey, you see that ambulance?”

“Tony!” He spun around and, sure enough, there was an ambulance. “I… Think we should go.” 

Grabbing Tony’s hand, he chucked some money on the table and dragged him out. They slipped out around the building and bailed. 

“I cannot believe you! You totally ruined my romantic evening.”

“Steve, that was at maximum a 4/10.” Steve frowned but didn’t get time to comment because Tony was being tackled and lifted into the air by a huge blond guy.

“Anthony! I have not seen you in many weeks.” 

“Hey, point break! How you doing?” 

“I am well. And who is this?” Huge and Hunky turned to him and Steve felt a surge of anger at the two inches of height that this guy had over him. Fuck, he was two inches taller. Steve already hated him.

“Oh, Thor, this is my friend, uh, boyfriend, Steve. Steve this is Thor. You’ve actually met before I think.” They smiled awkwardly at each other and Steve tried not to stare at the arm that Thor still had around his boyfriend.

“Boyfriend, huh? I did not think that anyone could tame this little one.” Thor addressed him, then turned to Tony, “How did you injure yourself?”

“Ah, well. You know how dangerous it is when I don’t have big Norwegian fellas to protect me.” Tony ran a joking hand down his chest and Steve looked away. “What’re you doing around here, blondie?”

“Searching for small troublemakers. Seen any?” When Tony laughed, Thor let him go, mentioning that he actually had things to do. He was gone in another second, bounding away.

“So… He’s cute.” Steve said conversationally as they began the short walk to his apartment. Tony looked up at him and smiled.

“Oh my God, are you jealous?” He looked away, “Ok, you so are. That’s so cute.”

“I’m not jealous of ‘thor’ or whatever his dumb name is.”

“Steve, get a grip man.” Tony was near cackling and Steve gripped his hands into fists as they entered his apartment block. By the time they got to his floor, Tony had to stop and bend over he was laughing so hard.

“I don’t know why this is so funny,” Steve said bitterly, feeling his anger levels rise a bit further.

“It is though. Like… He didn’t even _do_ anything. I mean, I mean, Bucky would probably wipe your ass for you if you asked but Thor-“ He tried to right himself, but kept laughing, “the straightest guy ever.”

“Alright alright. It’s not that funny. Would you just- Fine. Okay, I was super jealous and I don’t know why.” Steve stopped to glare at Tony who just wouldn’t shut up. “I just didn’t like him touching you, alright! You’re mine and-“

“Woah, _yours_?” Tony raised an eyebrow, “You _claiming_ me Rogers?”

Steve decided, right then, that there were no words that could convey the possessiveness he was feeling. He’d been feeling protective since Scott had made a comment, then Tony had got himself hurt and he’d felt double protective, and then some guy who’s two inches taller than him comes along and-

 

Tony hits the wall with an ‘oomf’ of surprise. Damn fucking right Steve was gonna claim him.

With hands that should maybe be a little gentler, Steve grabs Tony’s ass and hoists him up, a small growl escaping his throat. Yeah, okay, they were in the middle of the hallway, but he stumbles blindly down towards his door, fumbling with his key whilst keeping Tony firmly up and in front of him.

Eventually, after a lot of jiggling it around, Steve finally manages to get the door open. He turns 100% of his attention back to Tony, who still sat lightly in his arms. The possessiveness Steve had been feeling was spilling over, likely leaving a few marks that Tony wouldn’t be able to get rid of for a few days. For several moments, there was only raw, brutal passionate until Tony started trying to fucking talk through it again.

“So, earlier, when you were talking- about- the whole cross-dressing thing- were you being serious? You’re really into that?”

 

As soon as Steve had mumbled in the affirmative, they were interrupted by a soft ‘uhm’ from Steve’s kitchen table. 

They broke apart quickly, though Steve kept Tony firmly in his arms as he turned his head to look behind him.

“Mom!” Immediately, Tony slid out of his grasp to stand awkwardly behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello dear,” She flicked her hair out of her eyes, her hands firmly around a mug of tea she’d made, “can’t a mother drop in on her son?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. Of course, you can. I just, uh, wasn’t expecting you.” Steve stumbled forward, sitting in a chair across from his mom. Tony leaned against the kitchen counter, eying them both up and making himself look a little less rumpled.

“Clearly,” She smiled. Steve coughed uncomfortably. Oh God, the cross-dressing thing. “Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your… friend?” 

Behind him, Tony huffed out a laugh. “Hi Mrs. Rogers, I’m Tony-“

“Stark. Yes. I believe we talked on the phone already. You may not remember.” 

“No, I definitely remember,” Steve felt unbelievably awkward and couldn’t even imagine how Tony felt. If Tony did indeed ever feel anything at all.

“So you’re the boy that’s been keeping my son from me? I must say, if even Bucky Barnes says you’re a bad influence then you really must be bad.” Steve went to protest but his mom shushed him effectively. Fucking Barnes. “I’ve seen you on the twitter, Steven.”

To his credit, Tony didn’t laugh when his mom called it ‘the twitter’. 

“Mom-“

“Tony, dear, why don’t you sit down?” To Steve’s surprise, Tony wordlessly obeyed. He slid into a seat next to Steve, a drink having magically appeared in his hands and Dodger magically at his feet. “My son used to have books lying around in his apartment.”

Steve looked guilty at his sofa, which was covered in beer cans and a couple of vodka bottles. Fuck, he really should clean up sometime.

“Yeah, that’s mostly my fault Mrs. Rogers-“

“Call me Sarah. Frankly, I’m a little disappointed.” Steve frowned in confusion. Why was his mom being so weird? Other than the whole… crossdressing, your son dating a delinquent billionaire bad boy thing. “You have quite a reputation, Tony, but you seem to me to be a bit of a lightweight.”

 

What?

“I’ve never been called a lightweight before…” Tony began, challengingly. 

“Well, time to prove yourself to me, Tony Stark.” Steve watched in pure shock as his mom dragged out one of the whiskey bottles that Tony had left in his kitchen.

“Wh- Mom, no. You’re not gonna challenge my boyfriend to a drinking game.” Sarah looked disappointed.

“Aw, c’mon Steve.”

“Tony, no.” 

Steve confiscated the bottle from his mom, storming away from the table. What the hell?

“Steven, I didn’t raise you to be a spoilsport.”

“Am I hallucinating?“

“If you let me challenge him and he wins, then I’ll buy him a nice pair of heels or a skirt or something for you both.”

“Mom!” The amusement on Tony’s face was barely contained as he watched the interaction.

“What about if you win, Mrs. Rogers?” Steve glared at his boyfriend, who seemed to be having the time of his life.

“Then you let me take you both out for dinner.” They shook hands over the table and Steve felt the need to intervene again. 

“No! This- This can’t happen. Tony already drinks enough to drown an entire village and mom, you can’t do this to your body you’re like, old, and stuff.”

“Fine, how about we-

“NO! Whatever you’re about to say, Tony, it’s no. How about we play Uno or something instead?” They both grumbled but nodded. When he left to go and get the cards, he heard Tony ask if the odds were still on. His mom said yeah.

 

Steve had been out of the game for a long time. Tony and his mom had teamed up against him and were now having the most aggressive, tactical, intense game of Uno to ever have happened. They both seemed to be making the rules up as they went, yelling and laughing and getting along ridiculously well. 

Steve watched in anguish.

Fuck his plans for a fun night of hot sex, then.

Eventually, after well over an hour, Tony won. 

“Alright, Tony, you have proved yourself to me. I suppose you are worthy of my boy,” When Tony actually looked a little pleased, Steve blinked in shock.

“That’s all it takes?”

“Yes, Steven. You never see anyone’s worst colors like you do when you play them at Uno.”

“Wise words, Mrs. Rogers.” Tony poured himself another drink, knowing Steve wouldn’t want one in front of his mom.

“Now, I really must be going. Tony darling, text me, okay? We’ll go shopping. I owe you a pair of shoes, I do believe-“

“That is absolutely not happening-“ Steve went ignored.

“Then I think we should go out to dinner anyway. I need to properly meet this boy that’s been taking up so much of Steve’s time.”

“Okay. We’ll see you soon, Mrs. Rogers.”

“Sarah, please. And okay, but behave until then because that’s when the real evaluation starts. Oh, Steven love, fix up the cut on your boyfriend’s face, hm?” 

 

She was out the door the next minute and Steve collapsed into a chair. 

“What the hell just happened?” 

“I- I- I don’t really know.” Steve shook his head, wildly embarrassed at his mom’s actions. Tony made his way over, sitting carefully next to him. It was only now that Steve realized how bad the cut actually was. He knew better than to pry or ask him to go to the hospital. “All I know is that I just spent an hour, that I had set aside for sex with you, playing Uno with my mom.”

“What’s more sexually liberating than Uno with your mom?”

“I hate you. Will you let me clean up your cut?”

“You don’t think it gives me cool bad boy vibes?”

“You have enough of those.”

“Steve Rogers thinks I’m a bad boy.”

“I think you’re a naughty boy?”

“Ooh, am I in trouble?”

“For accepting my mom’s challenge of a drinking game? Yes.”

“God I love it when you bring your up mom when we’re hinting about sex,” Tony said with just enough sincerity to make Steve squirm in disgust. From there, he resorted to the only thing he knew would shut Tony up at least for a little bit and scooped him into his arms, carrying him to his bedroom.

 

Hours later, they lay damp and sweaty and exhausted in Steve’s bed. When Tony moved to get up and go, Steve wrapped a protective arm around him, locking him in place.

“Steve?” He grunted in response, “Steve? Your big gorilla arms are kind of trapping me.” Another grunt. A pause.

“Is this a kidnapping?”

“Wh- I don’t think this counts as kidnapping by any standards.”

“Let me go then!”

“No.”

“Why? You give off so much body heat.”

“Romance, Tony.”

“What’s romance? You kidnapping me or you being a literal living furnace. Because either way, you’ve completely failed on the romance front anyway. We literally played Uno with your mom.”

Steve really could not be bothered with an argument, he was so tired. Instead, he just pulled Tony, whose body always ran a little cold, further into him. Because he was so small, he little-spooned exceptionally well. 

Steve tucked both his arms around him, put a leg between his thighs and his face into his neck. Then, he prayed it would stay like that. S’not like Tony could do much about it anyway.

 

 

“How is it humanly possible for someone to wriggle around as much as you do? Like, have you ever stayed still in your life?” Steve grumbled. It was about 3 hours since he had begun his cuddle tirade on Tony.

It was going terribly. Tony moved all the time. Literally could never stay still. Then he was uncomfy, or Steve was uncomfy, or his arm was numb or Steve’s leg was bent or he was falling off or they were too damn hot.

Tony was also a massive duvet hog, or he had absolutely no sheets whatsoever.

“I don’t know, Steve. How is it humanly possible for someone to give off so much heat?”

“How is it possible for someone so small to take up so much space? You’re a fucking starfish.”

“I’m not small-“

“Yes, you are.”

“You just have a tiny bed! Would you just let me go-“

“No!”

They bickered nearly all night until finally Steve lay on his back and tugged Tony almost completely on top of him. That way, chest to chest, the duvet was relatively even, they didn’t take up so much bed space, and Steve could fucking hold him still.

Tony lay his head on Steve’s shoulder/chest and gave in, allowing himself to be held. He didn’t sleep, but Steve did and he was content to just lie there for a while, their legs tangled together.

 

He didn’t wake up and release him until late morning, by which point Tony had managed to snag his phone off the ground and get to level 53 on candy crush, all without getting off of Steve.

 

“Morning sunshine,” He mumbled as Steve groaned himself awake. He opened his eyes slowly, blinked up in confusion at Tony.

“Wh- Tony? What’re you still doing here?” Steve wouldn’t know, but his morning sleepy voice was having a weird effect on Tony Stark. To cover it up, the boy rolled his eyes and gestured to the large arms still wrapped around him.

“Didn’t give me much of a choice here, loverboy.”

“Y- Uh, food? Breakfast.” The arms released him, and Steve sat up, effectively toppling Tony off of him and onto the floor. He was too tired to notice the glare. “Let’s go get breakfast. Let’s go out. Waffle House.”

“A breakfast date? For real? What are we, 50?” In response, Steve hauled Tony up and shoved a hand over his mouth. He was definitely too tired for his whining. When he received another glare, he ignored it and kept his hand there. He took them both to the shower.

 

“We can’t go out yet, Steve, I haven’t gotten my make up on.” Tony joked, walking out into Steve’s kitchen. He was always in an infinitely better mood after he’d had coffee and gotten laid. 

“I actually have some makeup-“

“I’m not gonna ask. I’m also not gonna cross-dress for you, sorry babe.”

 

 

They never make it to the damn waffle house. In a fit of sheer stupidity, Steve asks Tony about the schools he got expelled from, and Tony asks how he knew, and then the truth about all those psych reports come out, and then ALL the shit hit the fan.

Tony was so angry that half the words he said weren’t even English and Steve could do nothing but say sorry and weakly defend himself. It turns out, their arguments are only fun when they’re pointless and they’re both angry. In this case, though, Steve really had fucked up and the horrible, heart wrenching break up that came after was to be expected.

 

 

Steve stands at Natasha’s door, knowing from the snapchat map that Sam and Bucky were there too. He knocks, putting as much sadness into it as possible. 

It takes 6 seconds for the door to open, another 2 for their happiness to drain away at the sight of his face.

“Come in, Steve.” He allows himself to be drawn into the house. The three of them are just sat around and he joins them, perching on the edge of the armrest.

“What’s up, misery guts?” Bucky asks and Steve just sighs, long and dramatic.

“I broke up with Tony,” He says and the reaction is instant. The room explodes into ‘no’s and ‘why’s and Steve’s pretty certain one of them is crying.

“Wow, I didn’t think you guys would take it so hard…” 

“Where is he? Is he okay?”

“Uh, I don’t know, Nat. But _I’m_ okay, thanks for asking.”

“Where is he? Were you rude? I’m gonna call him and see if he’s alright.” Sam babbles, pulling out his phone and shoving Steve out the way. He stares blankly at what are supposed to be _his_ friends.

“How could you let this happen, Steve? HOW?”   
“Bucky-“

“SHUT UP I’m calling Tony.” Sam cuts across and Natasha and Bucky are it his side in an instant. He puts the phone on speaker and after several rings, Tony picks up.

“ _Hey, Sam_.”

“TONY! Are you alright? We heard you and Steve broke up.” 

“ _Yeah, yeah I’m all good_.”

“Are you sure? Do you need us there? Shall we come and meet you?”

“Y’know guys-“ Steve tries but he’s cut off by three identical glares.

“ _Yeah, I’m all good. Thanks, guys. I’m just gonna be the bigger person here and remember him for his thick dick and big fingers_.” 

 

Steve leaves to go to the bathroom then, hearing distantly his three friends telling his ex-boyfriend how they’ll always be there for him etc etc etc.

When he comes back, they’re off the phone. Now, they’re sat around Nat’s coffee table and passing a tub of ice cream between them, mourning the loss of Tony.

“It’s technically me that’s broken up with him, y’know that right? Not you guys?” Steve says, joining the circle. Sam sniffs.

“Just when you think you’re really starting to connect with someone.”

“I know. I was thinking maybe he could meet my parents,”  To Steve’s horror, Nat’s tearing up and so is Sam.

“It’s so hard to find the right guy.” Bucky sighs mournfully. Steve feels like tearing his hair out because it’s _his_ breakup, not theirs.

“Remember the time we went upstate and Tony got so drunk he challenged a heavyweight boxer to a fight?”

The three of them nod soberly, recalling the memory and humming in sadness at the happy memory.

“Remember that time we rented boats in central park, and we were all so smashed they had to send out a rescue team?”

Another somber nod.

“Remember the time he got us all to join a circus? And we woke up on a train headed to Mexico with the worst hangovers of our lives?”

“I feel like these stories are a poor testament to Tony’s drinking habits.” Steve points out gingerly, not wanting to interrupt the melancholic nostalgia fest.

“He will be missed.” Natasha sniffs, taking the ice cream. 

“So yeah, I’m fine by the way.” Steve rolls his eyes and the others seem to truly notice him for the first time.

 

“I can’t believe you fucked this up, you idiot.” 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

A month. Steve goes a month without putting on any real clothes.

He tells work he has polio and tells his friends to fuck off. Binge eating is the only solution now. If he could be bothered to leave his flat and get more food, he’d be about 500 pounds of pure fat by now. Luckily, he was too lazy to do that. Too sad. Too heartbroken.

Steve’s search history was just as depressing as his life.

‘tony stark’

‘tony stark face’

‘tony stark eyes’

‘tony stark hands’

‘tony stark’

‘tony stark’

‘tony stark butt’

‘tony stark smile’

‘tony stark butt’

'tony stark butt'

‘tony stark smile’

‘tony stark’

 

The weirdest thing was, Tony had almost completely disappeared from the public eye. There were occasional party pictures, but the tabloids were going crazy over where he had disappeared to. Steve wasn’t even trying not think about him anymore. Fuck closure. Fuck moving on. Steve didn’t want to move on, he just wanted Tony. Even if he was an asshole.

 

It takes a month before Steve’s cousin comes knocking.

“Peggy?” She doesn’t wait for him to invite her in, she just marches through the door, holding her daughter's hand. “Hi, Sharon.”

Sharon waves, smiling brightly. She was getting big now. At least 5, or something.

“Steve, you’re a mess.” Peggy doesn’t take off her coat, just ditches her bag on the table.

“Nice to see you too, Peg.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“I’ve missed you a lot, as well.”

“And you look like you’ve died and been left to rot.”

“It’s always so lovely when you come around.”

“I’m going to help.” She says decisively, and Steve winces, because that was never good. 

“You can’t. It’s too late. Now, my only task is to fester in this limbo until I die.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”  
“I’ll be dramatic if I want,” Steve scowls, pulling on a hoodie to hide the food stains.

“Don’t make me shoot you again.”

“Alright fine,” Steve straightens up suddenly, “what are you doing?”

“I’m leaving you with Sharon for the day. I have things to do. Good luck.”

“What? That’s not- I can’t have- This isn’t helping, you just want a free babysitter!” Steve calls after her, but she’s already out the door, leaving the bag and her child behind. Sharon hops up on a chair and he sighs. 

 

“What do you eat?” He asks her, and Sharon just fiddles with the things on the table. “Right. Okay, well. I’m gonna go… get dressed. Don’t kill yourself while I’m gone.”

“Okay, Steve,” She responds brightly. Usually, Steve was very good with her. Responsible and kind and all that jazz. Then Tony had happened, and now Steve was an asshole with an orange juice stain on his t-shirt.

 

When he was fully dressed, he and Sharon sat down (moving the coke cans and subway wrappers to the side) and played boring kids games.

Steve would never admit that it helped.

 

Around 4 that afternoon, because Steve finally had a grip on time again, there was a knock at the door.

When he opened it, he was confronted with a woman, wearing a small skirt and a nice t-shirt and the greatest legs he’d ever seen on anybody. Dark hair spills neatly over her shoulders, and she looks… nervous? Steve had half gotten out a ‘can I help you?’ Before everything got stuck in his throat.

 

Air turned into a thick, weighty soup and his brain short-circuited. Because this woman, this girl…

It was _Tony_.

 

“I-“  
“Hi.” He (She?) said, a little unsure. Fuck, he looked so hot as a girl. Fuck, Steve had missed him so much. Fuck, what was going on.

“Tony?” 

“The one and only.” He smiled, lips red. How had he gotten his make up so good? How was he so hot? Was this one big fucking dream?

“I… What is- Why are- What’s-“

“Okay, I know this is stupid. Like, really stupid, and heels are super uncomfortable and I feel so sorry for girls, although the skirt thing is nice. I think I have pretty nice legs and getting them shaved was so liberati-“

“Tony, the point,” Steve urged desperately, clawing at any dregs of sanity he had left. Every muscle in his body was seized up. Thank god he was fucking dressed.

  
“Right, the point. The point. Uh, I did this for you. Because I miss you. And you massively invaded my privacy and all we did was fight and you’re kind of an asshole but I missed you. I missed you a lot and I didn’t have anyone else and I didn’t even really want anyone else, I wanted you. I… I really like you, and I want you to forgive me for being such a dick all the time. This is… This is a grand gesture? Maybe? Is it working?”

Steve couldn’t speak. It was weird hearing such a deep voice coming from such a pretty girl, and it was weird having Tony bordering on the brink of an actual apology, and it was weird that Tony was here, and that he was opening up, and that he was letting himself be vulnerable. 

“It’s… It’s working,” Steve chokes out, forcing his throat to behave. Tony gestures, waving painted fingernails around and looking at Steve like he wants him to say more. “I- I really like you, too.”

Tony stares at him, raising a neater, trimmed eyebrow. 

“That’s it? I fucking wrenched open my ribcage for you. Steve, I’m wearing fucking panties for you. Gimme a little more than that.” He says, and wow, all that makeup looks good. All Steve really wants to do is kiss him. Take him back to bed and never let go ever again.

“There’s just- I have a slight problem- My niece-“ Steve begins, right as said problem appears at his legs. Tony stares down at Sharon in well-concealed shock.

“Steve? Who’s that lady?” Sharon stands behind Steve’s legs, staring curiously at Tony.

“This is… uh,” Glancing pleadingly at Tony, he steps aside so that she can’t hide anymore.

“Natasha,” Tony cuts through, smiling, “Natasha Stark. Who are you, sweetheart?”

“Sharon!! Is she your girlfriend?” Sharon asks, turning to Steve, and this feels like it. 

Tony stares at Steve, the same question in his own eyes, and it’s all down to Steve. It’s all down to Steve, and Tony’s beautiful, amazing, incredible eyes are locked with his.

He can hear his heartbeat in his ears.

 

“Yes,” he breathes. 

 

Sharon bursts with excitement, hopping up and down, a million questions about Steve’s girlfriend spilling over her lips and Tony just smiles. A smile that Steve has missed so goddamn much. 

“Why don’t,” Steve cuts across Sharon, leaning down, “We let Natasha in and then you can ask her as many questions as you want?” 

Tony glares at him but forces it back into a smile when Sharon giggles excitedly. She grabs Tony’s hand, leaping up to catch it, and drags her inside. Whilst shutting the door, Steve takes one last look, mostly to appreciate Tony’s ass in a skirt and heels, and then puts his ‘child carer’ personality back on.

“Can I touch your hair?” Sharon bundlers her self into a chair next to Tony, reaching out to the brown waves over Tony’s shoulders.

“Uh, sure? Don’t pull too hard though, it’ll come off,” Tony’s serious, but Sharon doesn’t know that so she giggles.

“Did you do your make up yourself? Where did you learn how to do it? Can you do mine? Can you teach me how to do mine? What’s your favorite color?” 

“Uh, yes. I did it myself. I’m a bit of a beginner, though, so maybe-“

“Do mine! Do mine!”

 

 

Watching Tony interact with Sharon was magical. It was one of the things Steve had least expected. Really, though, he should probably have learned to expect the unexpected with Tony Stark. The heels and waxed legs being one of them.

Tony was so good with her. Good in a way totally different to any other person. He teased her, a little, but ultimately seemed to bond spectacularly. Steve was barely even registered by Sharon, and he only got small smiles and glances from Tony every now and again. He was fine with that, really, because it meant Steve got to sit back and watch, counting down the minutes until Peggy would likely be back and Steve could be alone with Tony. 

 

Eventually, after many, many hours (one hour), of Steve trying to think of dead puppies and naked elderly people (anything that would quell the threatening boner because Tony was so fucking hot and he’d had a whole month of just his right hand and memories), Peggy finally arrived.

She arrived conveniently as Tony was in the bathroom, and was a whirlwind of energy and hurriedness. Scooping up the bag of Sharon’s things and taking the girl’s hand, Sharon said goodbye to Steve and told him to say goodbye to Natasha. Peggy raised an eyebrow, but for some reason didn’t question it.

“Call me, okay? I’m free all week if you need me. Apart from today. Take care of yourself, alright?” She says, touching a hand to his cheek. Steve hardly knows what it was he was so depressed about in the first place. Everything’s great. Everything’s amazing. Tony was back and just as hot as always and Tony actually, really, truly cared about him and missed him and Steve wasn’t just some time filler. 

Once Peggy’s gone, and Steve has a minute or two to just soak everything up. Tony was back. Tony was back. Maybe Tony was back and maybe it was for good? 

Suddenly, it was all dread again. How long could this last? How long was it before they had another fight? Before Tony got bored? 

Steve made a small wager with himself. He gave it ten minutes before they had an argument, and twelve before they had sex.

 

“I’ve welcomed myself back into your life by taking a massive shit in your toilet,” Tony says, emerging from the bathroom with a satisfied smile.

 

“I love you,” Steve says back, and they both freeze.

Why had he said that? Oh fuck, why had he said that? Why had he said that right after Tony was talking about taking a shit? Oh shit. Oh shit.

“You- what?”

Well, Steve thought, it's too late now.

“I love you.” He swallows, “I think.”  
“You think?”

“Uh, yes.”

Tony stares at him, and Steve stares back, and neither seems to know what to say at all. 

Oh, they stare for ages. Like, 2 and a half minutes of just staring. 

 

Tony snorts with concealed laughter, face muscles fighting to keep neutral.

“Don’t laugh!” Steve yells indignantly, and it just makes Tony lose it. He breaks down in giggles, taking off the wig and revealing his own fluffy short hair. Steve tries not to laugh as well.

“I’m… I can’t help it,” Tony is laughing so hard he has to sit down.

“Stop it!”

“I can’t!” Steve moves to sit next to him, and Tony presses his face into his shoulder, laughing so hard and so cute that Steve can’t help but put an arm around his shaking shoulders.

“It’s not funny!” Every time Steve tries to say anything, Tony just laughs harder. Somehow, he wasn’t embarrassed. He was just… relieved that Tony hadn’t bolted?

“That’s-“ pause for more giggles “where you’re wrong, Steve.”

Tony laughs for minutes more, and Steve just lets him. He’d be a dirty liar if he said he hadn’t missed the sound of Tony’s laugh. Finally, finally, finally, Tony calms down, keeping half his face pressed into Steve’s shoulder.

“You’re such an idiot,” He said, and, okay, not the ideal response to a love confession but that’s alright because what comes next has Steve unable to breathe. “I love you, too.”

“You- You do?”

 

Steve bodily shoves Tony away from him, putting his hands on his shoulders and holding him at arm's length, staring at the poor guy like he’d grown a second head.

“Yes?” Tony says, frowning in confusion, still hiding a little amusement in his eyes. 

“You love me?” 

“That’s what I said.”

"You love me.” Steve was still gripping Tony tight, staring.

“So I’m told.”

“You love _me_.”

“Something like that.”

“ _You_ love me.”

“Okay, you know what? I take it back. You’re just an idiot,” Tony’s smiling and it’s such a beautiful smile. 

“No take backs.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, get used to it, buddy.”

“Guess I’ll have to.”

“Yeah?”

“If I’m sticking around.”

“Is that the plan?”

“There is no plan,” Tony says, a sudden flash of seriousness in his eyes, “just you. There’s… There’s only you.”

 

Another minute of staring. So much staring.

 

“Did it hurt when you waxed your legs?”

“Like hell. Did my balls, too.”

“Why?”

“For the experience.”

“Was it worth it?”

“I’d rather die than ever do it again.”

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna wax _your_ balls.”

“Why?”

“For the fun of it.”

“Why would you want to wax my balls?”

“It would be funny.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Nope. Pretty sure you _love_ me.”

“You love me too, which means you wouldn’t wax my balls without permission.”

“Fuck, I knew I should have waited.” Tony glares, “I should’ve just not said it back so I could hang it over your head for a while.”

“Shame.”

“Yeah.”

“I guess you just love me too much.”

“You’re never gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope, because you love me.”

“You said you loved me too, so ha. And you said it first.”

“Yeah, but you said you loved me back.”

“Whatever.”

“This conversation is going nowhere.”

“Can I wax your butt crack instead?”

“What? No.”

“Fine. I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Why?”

“Because I said I loved you and that’s embarrassing.”

“You’re right, it was pretty embarrassing for you.”

“Shut up, you said it was as well.”

“Mm.”

“So goodbye.”

“Don’t leave.”

 

“Desperate.”

 

“Don’t leave.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s been a month since I last had a decent fuck.”

“You’re just using me.”

“I’m not using you.”

“Alright, fine.”

“You should dress like a woman more often.”

“No.”

“You sure?"

"Yes."

"Even though you love me?"

"I don't love you as much as I hate you."

"Whatever."

“You have two minutes to get all your depression food and sad romance movies out of your bedroom.”

“Okay.”

“And your masturbation tissues.”

“Shut up.”

“You can’t say that you love me.”

“Shut up, sweetheart.”

“That’s better.”

 

 

The sex they have is mind-blowing. A raw, explosive mix of passion and pent-up, unsaid feelings and Steve had missed it so much. Fresh with the revelation that they loved each other, fuelled by a month of longing, and driven with words and emotions that neither knew fully how to express, Steve’s vision blurred.

Mere seconds before Tony came, he grabs fistfuls of Steve’s hair and leans in, breathing heavy and moaning, and arches his head back. As he spills over the edge, he tells Steve he loves him. Loudly, at first, and then on the come down he repeats it over and over and over again, quieter and breathless and filled with happiness and contentment. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. Steve matches each omission with a kiss to his throat, or his jaw, or his cheekbone or his neck. Then, when they’re lying in his bed, limbs tangled and chests heaving, Steve tells Tony he loves him too, and they both go to sleep happier than they’ve ever been in a while.

(Tony keeps the heels on all night).

 

 

 

The next morning, they have a stupid argument about something or other and Tony leaves angrily. Steve doesn't care because it just feels like everything's back to normal.

 

He takes a bath, calls his friends, and goes to work. Life back on track. Tony texts him that night, something about datenight coming up. Everything's good again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THOUGHTS?? I've missed this fic.
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO WHO WANTS a new fic with skaterboy! Tony ??? BC i really do and im gonna write one i think
> 
> if i did then I'd make it winteriron though so sue me.


	12. Chapter 12

 

Truth is, Steve had missed the  _ misery _ of being with Tony. Steve missed being left such wreck when he’d stay and leave, such a mess in the aftermath of every fight. He missed the pain and the anger and the fights that would keep him awake at night. He missed the burn of raw hatred in his chest, missed screaming and the swearing and then the phone calls the next day or week. He missed the late nights and he liked the kick in the face of being with Tony. Steve loved what Tony did to him. Loved the way that it hurt, that it destroyed everything in him, that it felt like everything in the world was crumbling and all that was left was the two of them. He’d rather fight than just fake it. (Steve kind of liked it rough, anyway). 

And Steve could make Tony _hurt_. Hurt for real. He knew he could. He knew that, just as Tony could do to him, he could dig his blade into all the right places and  _ twist _ . Find all the little insecurities and expose them. And if other couples watched TV all night, then so what? Steve loved the feeling of being at his absolute worst with Tony. He’s missed the rough, angry sex and the way it always, every time, left him wanting  _ more _ . Steve hated Tony.

Tony was someone who got what he wanted and then broke it. Tony was an asshole who took and took and took.

 

Steve loved Tony because even though he’d said he wouldn’t, he was now sat at a table in a bar, waiting for Steve, in a tight black dress and heels.    
  


 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a dump like this?” Steve asks, sliding onto the stool opposite him. Tony smiles slightly, taking a sip of his drink.

“Waitin’ for a fella,” He raises an eyebrow, casting a drink around the room, “haven’t seen ‘im, have ya?” 

“What’s he look like?” Steve plays along, taking his own drink that Tony had already ordered for him.

“Hm, blond. Big. Looks kinda like a muscular ellen degeneres.”

“He does not!” Steve blurts, then frowns because he ruined the game. He aims for a recovery, “seems like an idiot to have stood up such a pretty dame, though,”

“Oh, he’s a total idiot.” Tony nods in agreement, long hair bouncing, and Steve frowns, “I forgive him for it though, because he’s totally in love with me.”

“Totally in love with you, huh? Something makes me think you love him back.”

“Mm,” Tony leans in conspiratorially, “between you and me. I’m only with him because he has a big dick.” Steve fake gasps, and he relishes the smile on Tony’s face.

“But he seems like such a nice guy.”

“He’s an asshole.” Tony deadpans, voice dropping to usual testosterone levels, and something like warmth glows in his eyes, “but yes. I do love him.”

Steve grins, and the muscles on his face ache with the action. Across the table, laden with make up and covered in a wig and clad in a tight, sexy dress, his boyfriend was still the best thing in the world.

“Well, if you’ve got such a great guy waitin’ for ya, I guess I better get goin’. There’s other ladies in here that are more my style anyway.” Steve moves as if to leave, and Tony kicks him in the leg. “OW. High heels, much? Fucking hell.”

Tony sips his drink innocently, and Steve learns to be more scared of stilettos. Watching Tony walk so effortlessly in them the night before had instilled a weird feeling in his chest, a spicy mix of awe, arousal, and fear.

“Hey, talking to a fucking lady, remember? Watch your damn mouth.” 

“Not buying it. Haven’t got enough boob.” Steve gestures with his beer at Tony’s chest. In truth, Tony had just enough pectoral muscles to give a good impression. They weren’t huge, but he had a tiny waist and slim shoulders, so actually it worked quite well. Besides, Tony’s legs, tanned and toned and waxed, could convince anybody of anything.

“Maybe so, Rogers, but I got an ass that could win prizes. And has. Rear of the Year 3 times in a row, bitches.” 

“They voted you Rear of the Year when you were 15?” 

“Yeah,” Tony nods, and Steve just smiles, because he was dating a weirdo. The boy (girl?) across from him raises an eyebrow at his staring, and Steve feels the ache resurge in his chest. The ache of _wow I missed you so much it felt like the floor beneath my feet had disappeared_.

 

Which, of course, means his friends have to crash land.

“Steve!”

“Steve.”

“Stoooove. You’re alive.” They quickly surround the small table, slapping him on the back and clamouring about how they hadn’t seen him in literally a month.

“How did you guys find me?” He asks, sighing because now they wouldn’t go away. They barely shut up as they join the small table, and a few of them cast wary glances at Tony.

“Someone told us you had a date. It’s only taken a month.” Natasha glares, and then directs her attention to Tony. “So you have a new date? Moving on from Tony already, are we?”

It strikes Steve that they don’t know this is Tony, and they both try not to laugh at the same time.

“Since when were you into women?” Sam asks, also glaring at Tony.

“Guys, can you go away? I’m on a date-”

“Yeah, a date. A date with someone who isnt Tony! Toss this bitch and ring him.” Bucky says, and Steve would be mortified if Tony wasn’t smirking into his drink. 

“ _ Guys _ .” Steve interrupts, casting shameful looks at all of them, “I’m on a date. Right now. Go away.”

“What about Tony though!”

“Tony and I broke up a month ago. I’ve moved on to better people,” Steve plays along, watching in amusement as his friends gasp.

“Better people? No offense, lady, but you’re never going to replace Tony. You may as well leave now,” Apparently even addressing Tony face on wasn’t enough for it to click with his idiot friends.

“How could you do this to Tony?”

“Do what-”

“Who are you?” Natasha turns, eyes blazing, at Tony, who smiles innocently.

“I’m Natasha,” Tony responds, barely concealing a smirk. Natasha looks disgusted.

“That’s a terrible name.”

“Nat-”

“I’ll give you fellas a minute,” Tony raises an eyebrow and turns, sliding off the stool to walk towards the bathroom and letting them all have a brilliant view of his ass and legs. Not even his outright male voice seemed to strike a chord.

“Okay, now I see why you went with her.” Bucky says, staring blatantly at Tony’s butt. The others ‘mmhm’ in agreement.

“Yeah, man. That ass could win Rear of the Year.”

“It’s almost as good as Tony’s...” Sam frowns, knitting his eyebrows together and then, all at the same time, the three of them drop their jaws and stare, eyes wide.

“It _is_ Tony!”

“You son of a bitch!”

“He’s back!” They yell, and Steve shushes them, embarrassed to be seen in public.

“Why is he dressed like a woman-”

“Why are you on a date without telling us-”

“When did he get back?”

“Are you back together?”

“If you aren’t back together can I have him?”

“Is he okay?”

“So what’s he going on with you two?”

 

“GUYS. I can’t believe you only recognised him by his butt!” Steve shouts, shutting them up for only a second. 

 

“It’s the best way to distinguish him when there’s no drinks and no snark.” Natasha shrugs, right as Tony comes back from the bathroom. The talking immediately starts up again as his friends greet Tony excitedly. There’s much hugging and smiling and even some crying. Jesus, Bucky. Eventually, Steve pulls the plug on it. “How did you guys know to be here?"

“Somebody texted us. Said you had a date.” Natasha shrugs,

“So you decided to crash it?” They all nod  and Steve stares in confusion until Tony’s grin catches his eye. “ _ You _ did this?”

“Yeah, I’ve missed them.” He says, and they all go in for a group hug again.

“This was meant to be our get back together date. Just the two of us. Properly. For the first time in ages.” Steve tries to reason, indignance rising in his voice, and Tony just grins sheepishly. Steve turns to Bucky. “Even you?”

“Sorry, man. We haven’t seen him in a month either.”

“He’s  _ my _ boyfriend, though.”

“Isn’t he technically your girlfriend, for tonight?”

“Either way, the key word is mine,”

“Aw, c’mon, Steve. Share!”

“So you’re here to stay, I guess?” He sighs, knowing that they’re all nodding without having to look. Fuck the cute date then.

 

(Steve wouldn’t admit it, but he did still have fun. If by fun you mean they got really drunk and lived like 20 year olds in New York City. God, Steve had missed Tony’s alcohol tolerance.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PPL requested more of Steve's friends bantss so here we go. first few paragraphs based off a song i rlly like points if u can guess it 
> 
>  
> 
> ANYWAy new fic idea :::: hogwarts extreme rivalry tony vs steve ok ???? 
> 
> Featuring:.................. PROFfessor DUMBLE-FURY 
> 
>  
> 
> and slytherin (maybe fem!) Tony and gryff Steve?? I wanna write so bad hands up who would read it?? 
> 
> Anyway heres a lil chapter for ya


	13. Chapter 13

Tony and Steve start again.

 

This time, they do it differently.

 

“I think,” Steve starts, looking over at Tony, who’s eating spaghetti out of a tin. Ah, the billionaire lifestyle, “we skipped the part about being friends.”

“Huh?” Tony glances at him, spoon in mouth.

“We were never friends. We dated, but we weren’t friends.”

“Ew, are we friends  _ now _ ?” Tony raises an eyebrow, wrinkling his nose in disdain.

“Sorta? We’re not exactly close.”

“Close? You were inside me like 15 minutes ago how much closer do you need to get? I’m running out of holes for you to fill, Steve.”

“You’re gross, and that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?” Tony directs his attention back to the TV.

“We never did cute romance things.”

“I resent that. One time I sucked you off while holding your hand.”

“Tony.”

“Oh c’mon Steve,” Tony turns, exasperated, to look at Steve. “Neither of us are cute romantic people. Are you? Do you want cutesie shit?”

“Well, no,” he relents, accepting defeat where it’s deserved, “but I think we could have tried harder.”

“You think that would’ve helped?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Tony meets his eyes, unimpressed and bored looking. “We don’t need to be all close and romantic for this work.”

“I think we do.”

“Fine, what first? Rose petals? Heart shaped chocolates? Why don’t I rub you with scented lotions.”

“Okay, very funny. I really think we should try being friends.” Steve takes Tony’s arm and he sighs, long and slow. “I think you’re scared.”

“Scared?”

“Yeah.”

“Of what?” 

“Opening up.”

“I prefer it when you open me up,” Tony flashes him a wink, effectively proving Steve’s point about emotional vulnerability. He seems to realize this. “I’m not scared, Steve.”

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove that you’re not afraid of romance and opening up.”

 

_

  
  
  
  


Tony and Steve sit in Tony’s huge bath, opposite each other. 

 

“Feeling romanced, yet?” Tony rolls his eyes, sipping at one of the beers they’d brought through. 

“Very,” Steve nods and swipes up some bubbles to hold in his hands. “But you’ve still failed.”

“Failed what?” 

“You’re still emotionally unavailable.”

“So are you!”

“I’m showing willingness! I’m much better at this than you.”

“No, you aren’t. You’re just stoic.”

“I’m not stoic I’m emotional. More emotional than you.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“This isn’t romantic or emotional, Tony.”

“I’d still be better at it than you,”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Yes, I would.”

“No, you wouldn’t,”

“Sometimes the only reason I get out of bed or leave the lab is so that I can see you.”

Steve’s features soften at the spite-confession and it makes Tony glare, so he quickly schooled his expression into one of boredom and disinterest. “That’s okay, I guess.”

“Okay? Better than anything you can do.”

“Nuh uh,”

“Yuh huh.”

“Nuh uh,”

“When I wake up in the morning you’re almost always the first thing I think about.” Tony looks deliberately passive about the comment, then raises an eyebrow.

“Pathetic.”

“You can do better?”

“I don’t think I’m good enough for you so I am trying to become a better person. Beat that.” Tony smiles vindictively, and Steve does his best to come with something to beat him with.

“I worry that if you’d seen me back when I was skinny and pathetic, you’d never have paid attention to me.” Ha, Tony couldn’t beat that one.

“Sometimes I think that if you knew who I really was a person, you’d know how much of an asshole I am and how little I deserve you.” Steve leans forward competitively, searching for sappy things that would win.

“Your life habits worry me and I go out of my way to help you maintain and achieve a life where you aren’t lonely and isolated.” 

“I grew up not knowing how to love or trust anyone and I worry that I’m going to mess this up because I never learned what it was to love or be loved,” Tony lets out the omission with air of confidence, proud that he was messed up enough as a kid to win this petty argument.

“You’re so rich and smart and attractive that I think you’re wasting your time with a schmuck like me.” Steve counters and Tony looks annoyed that Steve’s still going to beat him.

“You’re a beautiful and good person and I don’t want you staying with me out of pity or obligation.”

“I sometimes worry I’m too boring for you.”

“I sometimes worry I’m too messed up for you.”

“When I was 12, I almost died from my illnesses. My mom couldn’t afford treatment and I almost didn’t make it. Since then, I freak out every time I get a cold and I worry that if I got ill again, I'd be a burden on you.”

“I haven’t cried since I was four because my father told me crying was for babies. I don’t open up because the only people I’ve ever trusted have betrayed me and I grew up in the center of the media. Before you, I’ve never met anyone I trust enough to be myself and even then, I’m not sure who I am anyway. Being in the public eye and never having anyone in my life meant that I became a whole different person, the person that people want to see. The closest I’ve ever felt to being myself has been with you.” The omission was heartbreaking, but Steve was determined to win this.

“After my dad died, I gained some kind of hero complex and struggle to open up, thinking I wasn’t manly if I did so.”

“When I was 13, I almost died from one of the times my dad beat me so badly I had to be taken to the hospital. My mom sat at the other end of the room, watching him hit me until I threw up blood and passed out. Then she drove me to the hospital and never said a word,” Tony’s voice remained steady, as if this was still just a game, but the wind had been knocked out Steve’s lungs. Pain and anger and worry and fear flooded his body. Sadness crash-landed into his brain like nothing he’d ever felt before. Tony, young and vulnerable and innocent, had been abused by his own father. A father who was famous and powerful. Steve loved Tony, he really did, but it was obvious that the two of them had never really emotionally connected before. Their dynamic just hadn’t worked like that. It was an easy enough concept before, with them both being emotion-fearing assholes who just wanted a good time and went with what they knew felt good. What felt good was each other.

This, though. Now Steve knew him. Knew Tony. Now he knew Tony wasn’t just a mouthy rich asshole who was a good fuck and Steve loved anyway. Tony Stark had just become someone weak. Someone soft and battered and broken and undermined so much that he had been forced to create his own foundations. Steve, now, could see Tony as nothing other than someone who needed looking after. And Tony would hate that, so Steve doesn’t reach out and touch him, or hug him, or draw him into his arms and pet his hair or kiss his cheek or some bullshit like that. Instead, he cracks open another beer and says the words he swore he’d never say to Tony.

 

“Alright, fine. You win.”

 

Tony’s face cracks into a grin, but Steve knows that something just changed for good. Something maybe bad. Tony wouldn’t be comfortable with the new revelations. Tony wouldn't be okay with exposing himself like that. Steve wondered how long they’d be able to keep pretending everything was fine before the situation exploded into a heated argument or angry sex. Everything kept coming down to the fact that Tony was  _ abused and hurt  _ when he was a  _ child _ .

“Yes, daddy issues trump card.” He says, sipping his beer and leaning back. Muscled arms spread around the edge of the tub, olive brown and smooth. Steve stares at the scars on them, wondering if they were Tony’s father or just workshop incidents. Or other incidents. You never know with Tony.

“Daddy issues seems like a bit of an understatement.”

 

Tony frowns, tangling their legs together, “we're not talking about this, Steve.”

“Why? Scared?” Steve pushes, not knowing why. His mouth actually drops when Tony replies.

 

“Yes.”

The silence stretches, and Steve thinks that this is it. Tony Stark admitted to being scared and maybe the world was ending. 

  
“He’s dead, Steve. I don’t have to think about it anymore.” Tony stares at him, meeting his eyes challengingly. They’re cold and hard, not relenting and not sad and not hurt and definitely not scared. They’re not scared, just challenging.

“What about your mom?” 

“What about my mom?”

“Do you care that she’s dead?”

 

Steve doesn’t know why he’s pushing this so hard, but Tony hadn’t hit him yet so that was a good sign. Tony’s face remains fairly dead. Thinking about it, Steve deduces that this is probably the first time Tony’s ever come close to talking feelings. Ever. In his life. He’s never had anyone to talk to. No one to trust. He wasn’t even talking about his feelings, he’d just allowed about 3 omissions in succession. It was still terrifying. It was terrifying that Steve was an asshole and still the closest Tony’s probably ever had to a friend.

 

“No.” He says after a while, and there’s much more to it than that. Much more to the ‘no’ that he said so firmly, but Steve isn’t going to ask and Tony’s not going to elaborate. They stare at each other for a while, meeting each other’s eyes with each other, while the water slowly cools down.

Steve stares at Tony. At this guy, this boy, he was only 18, who had never really known love. 18 years old with no friends, no family, and more money than God, just to be left with nothing but a reputation. Tony was tough. Tough in the weirdest ways. Tony has created a life for himself in which no one will ask questions because nobody will get close. Nobody’s probably even tried to get close without an ulterior motive, which is just sad. Nobody in the world even knew who Tony Stark was. Steve didn’t know who Tony Stark was. 

Tony Stark was famous and rich and whip-smart and funny. Tony Stark was cruel and powerful and brash and sharp.

 

But Tony Stark also sticks his tongue out when he works, and throws his head back when he laughs and smudges ink everywhere when he uses a regular pen. Tony Stark can’t cook and thinks its November when its March, and Tony Stark eats things he finds on the floor and can’t remember his birthday and Tony Stark loves reality TV and cold showers and green apples. Tony Stark stands on counters to look bigger and has a natural pout. Maybe Steve did know who Tony Stark was, just not all of it. Not enough.

Steve wouldn’t ever know the full depth of Tony Stark. Not enough time in the world would adjust him because Tony was full of surprises and Tony was  _ abused _ .

 

 

“Wanna have sex?” Tony asks, and Steve is drawn from his thoughts.

“Yeah,” He shrugs.

 

_

 

“So are we, like,” Tony begins, waving a hand vaguely above him. He’s lying flat on his back, stretched awkwardly but comfortably around Steve, glowing from that post sex feeling. “Over?”

“Over?”

“Yeah.”

“Over?” Steve repeats, still a little hazy and very confused. Over?

“Yeah, because I’m a horrible human being and you’ve got your own issues and maybe its better we never see each other?”

There’s silence for a while as Steve thinks this over.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“So we’re still together?” 

“Sure.”

“Okay.”

 

There’s silence for a little while longer.

 

“So we’re still together?”

“Yes, Tony.”

“Even though I’m an asshole and severely emotionally damaged?”

“I’ve always known who you are, Tony. I’ve just never known why.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Shut up.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“So we’re not breaking up?”

“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another tiny chapter for u all bc i love this fic but passion dying.
> 
> comment ur thoughts and ideas, get my inspo going agen ok luv u all pls comment thanks love u all


	14. Chapter 14

Sam gets a girlfriend. 

They’re perfect together. 

 

They’re all in a coffee shop now, sitting around and talking. Misty and Tony are supposed to be arriving soon so that they can meet each other for the first time.

Right on time, two minutes early even, Misty turns up looking beautiful. She’s dressed perfectly, makeup done and a huge smile on her face. She approaches them, greets each with a smile and a hug or handshake, then slides into Sam’s lap, kissing his cheek. She takes out her purse, handing Sam a candy bar that she knows is his favorite, then kisses his cheek again. Misty is nice to everyone, saying how much she’s heard about them and how great they all are, how excited she is to start seeing them more. When asked, she talks happily about how much she likes Sam and how she’s sure his friends are just as good. 

 

Then Tony arrives. 

 

Tony is 25 minutes late, wearing heavily ripped jeans and a t-shirt he’s been wearing for four days. His hair is messed up, eyes bleary, and he flops down in a chair a little way away from Steve, only acknowledging him in the form of grabbing his coffee and drinking it, placing his bare feet on the table. Tony greets them by saying “what’s up fuckers” and telling Bucky that there's a homeless man outside that looked  _ just  _ like him. 

“Why’re you late?” Steve asks casually, trying to pretend that it wasn’t a normal thing for Tony to do. 

“I got propositioned by a prostitute on my way here.”

“Where did you find a prostitute?”

“She was just in my kitchen this morning.” Tony shrugs and Steve sighs, beginning to lose hope of Misty thinking his relationship was better than hers. Tony didn’t bring  _ him  _ a candy bar. 

Misty smiles, greeting Tony who hadn’t even realized she was there. 

“Ohhh Sam’s experiment, huh?” Tony says conversationally, “Y'know, I always thought he was gay.” Misty doesn’t say anything, a little shocked. 

“Sorry Stark, not gay. Not available.” Sam teases, pulling Misty close to him in a way that makes Steve frown with jealousy. “I wouldn’t date you anyway.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a shit boyfriend,” Sam says, and Tony doesn’t seem offended at all. There was literally zero inclination to defend himself. 

“Oh, that’s so true. A month ago I had to call Steve pet names for a whole week because I forgot his real name.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Steve sighs, not bothering to get mad. Tony nods enthusiastically.

“Yeah. And that time we went to the hospital because I drunk dared you to ram a door down with your head, I had to fill out your medical forms and I couldn’t remember your surname so I said it was Kardashian.”

Misty laughs as if Tonys joking, but Steve can only put his face in his hands because Tony was not doing a good job of making it look like they had the superior relationship.

In an attempt to salvage the situation, Steve tugged Tony to sit on the same chair as him, squishing them together to try and look as cute as Sam and Misty. He pressed a kiss to Tony’s head, then wrinkles his nose. 

“Why do you taste like peanut butter? And… red bull?” He asks, wondering if it was worth it. 

“I tried making a smoothie but I didn’t put the lid on right,” Tony replies by way of explanation. Misty laughs nervously and looks at Sam as if wordlessly asking ‘what the fuck is wrong with your friends’ and Sam just shrugs. 

“So you’re the famous Tony Stark,” she says, leaning forward. Tony narrows his eyes at her, frowning slightly.

“Do I know you?” He asks, not cruelly but curiously. Misty falters.

“Uh, no I don’t think-“

“Do you have a sister?”

“Uh, yes…”

“That’ll be it then,” Tony nods, and Steve almost gives up completely because  _ of course _ , Tony fucked Sam’s girlfriend’s sister. Bucky and Natasha were having their own conversation, occasionally casting Steve sympathetic glances, knowing how competitive he was and how much this would be hurting him. 

 

It just got worse from there. 

 

The more Misty and Sam interacted, the worse Steve felt. They just kissed all the time and hugged a lot and when Misty left for work she told him she loved him and that she would see him later for dinner. When Tony left, not for work but out of boredom, he didn’t hug or kiss Steve, just told him that he’d ‘probably maybe see you later I think’. 

Natasha and Bucky were involved in their own argument still and Sam shot Steve a very sympathetic, but faintly gloating look. 

“Don’t,” Steve warns, but it’s too late. 

“Look, I’m sure you guys will get there-“

“Get there!? We’ve been dating for way longer than you guys!”

“Yeah, but Tony probably takes a little longer to, y’know, open up to that kind of affection.” Sam taps his arm placatingly, but Steve just scowls. 

“Shut up, Sam. Tony and I are happy with the way we work. We don’t need to be all affectionate to show that. I don’t need Tony to be affectionate,” Steve says, sounding equally like he’s assuring both Sam and himself. Neither believes him. 

“Okay, whatever you say.”

  
  


__

  
  


Misty hangs out with them a lot more after that.   
  


Steve hates it. 

Don’t get him wrong, he loves Misty. Loved that Sam is happy and they’re good together. 

It’s just that they’re  _ so  _ good together.

“Hey honey, how was work? Hey guys! Ooh, cards. Can I play?” Misty greets, walking in and ditching her handbag on one of the seats in the bar. Sam kisses her for a little longer than necessary, they all say hi, and they get back to the game.

Then Tony walks in. 

“What’s up, fuck lords,” he says, throwing himself into a seat across from Steve. He eyes the table. “Cards? Really? Am I in a bar or an old people home. Where’s the fucking puzzle? God, you guys are lame. I’m getting tequila shots, everybody gear up.”

Then he’s off again, not saying hi to Steve, or any of them, really. Steve can’t even sigh because Bucky and Natasha have started chanting “tequila!” Over and over again. 

__

  
  
  


“Shit,” Steve says, face down on a carpet he woken up on many a time before. Tony's blessed living room. He was responded to by several echoes of the same word, murmured in grudging agreement. 

It takes half an hour, but Steve finally manages to sit up. Somewhere else in the room, others are also stirring. 

“Nat,” He nudges her, sounding pained just by saying her name. She doesn’t respond. “Nat,” he says again, and she makes an abominable noise that safely warns Steve away from disturbing her again. 

He shifts upwards so that he stands on wobbly legs. This is a  pretty standard morning, so he goes for the regular routine and heads for the kitchen. Bucky follows, but he’s crawling on the floor. 

There, Misty is fussing around the kitchen and Sam is at the kitchen counter, sat on a stool. 

“Hey, guys!” She says brightly, looking like she hadn’t drunk much and was absolutely fine. Which was probably what happened. 

“Sh,” Bucky responds, sitting next to Sam and slumping on the counter. 

“You guys are so cute. I’ll fix you all up some breakfast. What do you want?” She smiles, and Steve hates her because she’s so fucking nice. 

“Nngh,” Bucky says, and Misty takes that to mean eggs. She fixes Bucky and Steve with a coffee and also one for Sam. 

“Here you go, sweetheart. It’s an almond milk cappuccino, just the way you like it.” She kisses his head. “Tony’s machine is so great.”

Sam tells her he loves her, and Steve watches the interaction with growing bitterness. Of course, Tony walks in. Banging and pans over his head. Chanting. 

 

That fucking song that goes “I don’t get no sleep cause a y'all, y’all not gon get no sleep cussa me,”

He claps them repeatedly over his head, making Steve and Sam and Bucky all cower into themselves, pitting their pounding heads. Eventually, Bucky lunges forward and grabs them out of his hands and hurls them across the room, smashing about 9 empty glass bottles in the process. Tony’s unphased, just leans against Steve. That, at least was almost close to affection. Steve pretended it wasn’t because he was too sleep deprived and probably still too drunk to stand by himself. 

Tony doesn’t make Steve’s favorite coffee, but he does tell Steve that he cleaned up the vomit Steve had left in the sink.

“Thanks,” Steve said. 

“Don’t thank me. I’m only telling you because I’ve put it in Bucky’s coat pockets.” He whispers back and Steve sighs because Misty and Sam are holding hands. 

  
  


_

  
  


The more Misty hangs out with them, the more resentment Steve holds against both her and Tony for their separate idiosyncrasies. 

He wasn’t a hypocrite. He knew he wasn’t very affectionate with Tony, and he knew he didn’t want the kind of lovey dovey shit that misty and Sam do, he’d just like,,,, something more. 

“What’s up, buttercup?” Tony flops down on the couch next to him, Dodger in his arms. He lets the dog down onto the floor. 

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Somethings wrong,” Tony observes, a little unsure.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Oh thank God,” Tony breathes a sigh of relief, wriggling into Steve’s space. “Wanna bang it out?”

“Yeah.”

  
  


___

  
  


Misty sucks. 

 

She’s beautiful and kind and funny and Steve hates her because she just turned up and gave Sam a picture frame that she’d hand painted with a picture of the both of them in there. Steve hates her. Steve hates her because Tony turned up and showed Steve a photo he’d taken on the way of two worms having sex.  
  


It all comes to a head one day in April. It came to a head because Steve was really fed up and Tony was being a pain in the ass and Sam had just announced that he wasn’t going to be around for a while because he and Misty were going on a romantic getaway weekend.

“What is your problem?” Tony asks lazily, having only just detected Steve’s pissed off vibes despite the older making extra effort for the last two hours to alert Tony of how irritated he was. They were in Steve’s apartment, which was rare, and Tony was sat on the kitchen counter breaking open Steve’s toaster.

“Misty and Sam are going abroad.” He cuts straight to the chase, knowing that playing games would just mean Tony lost interest and would move on to something else.

“So?”

“We’ve never done that.”

“Yeah, we have.”

“No, we haven’t.” 

“Remember that time we woke up in Brazil?”

“That’s not abroad, and it doesn’t count.”

“And we were technically over the border to Canada that time.”

“That definitely doesn’t count.”

“Why?”

“Romantic getaways aren’t romantic if you don’t remember how you got there or you get arrested on the trip.”

“Romantic getaways? You want a romantic getaway?”

“Yes!” Steve throws his arms up in frustration, turning to face this idiot of a human being. “I wasn’t even trying to disguise that that’s what I wanted!”

“Alright! Alright. That’s dumb though.” Tony dismisses him instantly and its the final straw. Steve snaps.

“For fuck’s sake!” He yells, making Tony turn to him with a raised eyebrow, “It’s not dumb, it’s nice! Misty and Sam are really committed to having a fruitful and close relationship! They do romantic things and they sometimes cuddle for hours and watch Netflix and hold hands! They bake together and Sam buys her flowers for no reason and takes her to get pedicures and they go for romantic drives! Do you know what we do? All we do is fight, or have sex, or get drunk! That’s literally it! Did you know Misty and Sam don’t argue? Like, ever? They never shout at each other and when they have sex, they call it ‘making love’. Sometimes they do things and it ends calmly. Nothing we do is calm! We don’t do romantic getaways!”

Steve knew he was taking maybe a little too much of this out on Tony, but it had been a good day or so since they’d had an argument and things were getting a little pent up. He needed a good cathartic yell, anyways. This Misty thing was really bothering him.  
  


Then something incredible happened.

Something horrible, astounding, and downright unpredictable happened.

 

Tony didn’t argue back.

He just stared at Steve, waiting for him to finish, then nodded once and jumped down.

 

“Well, Sam’s got a pretty big bed, right? If you want that shit so bad, then go join Misty and Sam. Clearly, they have enough love to share.” His voice is level and almost casual but he’s out the door the next second, leaving Steve with an open mouth and a half put together toaster.

“What?” He whispered to himself.

 

_

  
  


“Hey, Steve!” Misty greets, smiling slightly as she sits across from him. Steve wills himself not to glare at her, reminding himself that it definitely was not her fault that Tony hadn’t spoken to him in two and a half weeks. 17 days and 14 hours. 

“Hey, Misty. What’s up?” He forces a smile, taking a sip of coffee to avoid meeting her eyes. Misty had wanted to meet up, just the two of them because she wanted to get to know Sam’s friends better. It was a cute, nice, dumb fucking idea.

“Nothing much. Got a big presentation at work tomorrow, so it’s nice to have a break from the preparation.” She laughs, and Steve finds himself bored already. He and Tony never talked about shit like that. “How are you? How’s Tony?”

“I’m good. Tony’s… well, he’s Tony.” Steve shrugs and huffs out a laugh, hoping that would be enough for her just to drop it. It’s not.

“Oh? ‘Tony being Tony’ seems to be the explanation for almost everything that happens with you guys,” Misty reaches for her coffee and Steve hates how calm and gentle all this is. Her tone is soft, warm, and it makes Steve wish he had Tony’s casual, jagged words back in his life. He doesn’t want gentle laughs and pleasant conversation.

“Yeah, well, he really is something else,” Steve replies, not meaning as a compliment but Misty smiles like he just confessed his love for him.

“What you guys have is just magical. I hope one day Sam and I can get to where you guys are,” She says, officially making Steve splutter.

“You- What me and Tony have?”

Misty blinks, looking a little affronted, “Of course. You and Tony are two of the most connected people I’ve ever met.”

“We are?” Steve stares, struck dumb. His mind goes completely static.

“Yes!” Misty looks so excited she might bursts. “God, Sam won’t let me talk about you anymore. You two are just so  _ there _ , so  _ with _ each other. I just think its so magic that two separate people can be so in tune with each other.”

“I- But- We fight all the time. We don’t really do anything romantic or anything.” Steve states lamely, staring at his coffee. Misty shakes her head vehemently.

“That doesn’t matter! What you guys have just seems so… raw. A relationship where you bare the worst parts of yourselves to each other is one of the strongest you could ever form! You two clearly... you’re just so meant for each other. Tony obviously doesn’t feel the need to go and do a bunch of false things to show his love, but he still puts in the effort for you in the places that he thinks it counts.”

“Why… But we’re both such a mess. You and Sam, you’re so put together and you do lots of romantic things together.” Steve doesn’t know why he’s suddenly having a heart to heart about his relationship troubles with Sam’s girlfriend, but here he was.

“Well, yeah, and you both obviously have some things to work through when it comes to communication, but there’s no doubt that you’re meant for each other, in whatever disjointed way that may be. Sam and I aren’t perfect, and sometimes I want to punch his cocky face, which is pretty normal.”

Steve sighs, resting his head on his fist, “I yelled at him a little while ago about how we should be more romantic. Hasn’t talked to me since.”

“I think that’s down to you to fix,” Misty pats his arm, and Steve suddenly really likes her. “You don’t need to do romantic things to be happy. Forcing yourselves into certain boxes isn’t going to help your relationship.”

Steve nods, resolving himself to find Tony after this and apologize.

 

After that, Steve and Misty talk about gossip girl and how tangled was definitely the best Disney movie, and Steve decides once and for all that he liked Misty much more than he likes Sam and she could replace him any time. When he tells her this, as they’re both getting up to leave, she just laughs.

“That’s what Natasha said as well.”

“And Bucky?”

“And Bucky.” She nods, patting his shoulder once and they say their goodbyes. Steve steps out onto the street, taking a deep breath before beginning the trip to Tony’s. He had some apologies to make.  
  


_  
  
  


Steve never makes it to Tony’s.

 

He doesn’t make it because he gets  _ fucking kidnapped _ .  
  


He was in the back of the van now, a black bag over his head and his wrists tied behind his back, lying face down on the floor with someone’s foot on the back of his neck. Steve was, to put it mildly, super pissed off about it all.

 

One minute, he’d been walking casually down an empty street, the next minute there are men wearing black balaclavas everywhere and he’d being manhandled and tied up. The men were huge, and it was a testament to how strong they were that Steve wasn’t able to hold them off despite the impressive fight he’d put up. Steve can’t think of a single reason anyone would want to kidnap him, let alone any reason as to why the kidnappers were being so nice to him. They’d gone to extra effort to make sure he wasn’t hurt, and they’d even avoided putting him on the ground for a while, eventually having to put him there because he kept trying to fight back. It was, all in all, one hell of a situation.

 

Luckily, it was a short-lived situation. 

The van slowed to a stop and, with much difficulty, the men who had not said a single word up until this point, manhandled Steve out of the van. It took him kicking out and catching one of them with a solid hit before one of the men spoke and threatened to tranquilize him. After that, it was all cold air and blowing winds, then he was being lifted up what sounded like stairs, all the while Steve was wriggling and fighting, trying to get the fuck out.

Then the wind is gone, and he’s in some strange warmth, and he’s being dumped into a seat, a strangely comfortable seat, and someone’s ripping off the bag and-

Steve blinks his eyes open, squinting at the light and realizing with growing confusion that he was on a fucking plane. A private jet, from the looks of it, and Tony was sat opposite him, in a comfy looking brown leather chair, champagne glass in hand. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He blurts, staring at Tony with what he hoped was anger but was probably incredulity. Tony tilts his head.

“Hey to you too, Steve.” He grins, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“What is wrong with you?” Steve glares, wrenching his hands-free and whipping around as the final man disappears out of the plane door. Someone had loosened his wrists. “Did you fucking kidnap me? Who were those men? Why are we on a plane?”

“So many questions... and not a single hello,” Tony shakes his head sadly, “For your boyfriend, who you haven’t seen in a week.”

“Two weeks,” Steve corrects automatically. “It’s been 17 days. Almost 18.”

“And yeah, I did kidnap you. But only so that we can go on our romantic getaway. Check it out!” He grins, waiting for Steve’s approval.

“You kidnapped me!” 

“Surprise?” Tony lowers his hands, looking slightly unsure and Steve sighs. Tony had actually thought kidnapping him was a good idea.

“How did- Who were those men?” Steve gives in, taking a drink from a woman in a flight attendant uniform and slumping back, accepting his fate.

“Mafia men.” Tony shrugs and Steve does a spit-take.

“Mafia men?”

“Yeah, I have some connections.” 

“Connections with the mafia.”

“Yeah, Italian  _ and _ Russian.”

“The… Wait.” Steve pauses, his drink halfway to his mouth. “So when… When my boss tried to fire me and he just… disappeared. That was-”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure he’s still alive,”

“And… And my other boss giving me a raise so big I now get paid more than her...”

“Yeah, that was me as well. I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d be mad.”

Steve stares, trying to digest all this information at once and pretending he cared more about the fact that Tony was 18 and heavily involved in the mafia than he did at just seeing Tony in general. How lame was it that he missed him after two weeks.

“So what- What’s going on? With this?” He chooses to ignore the new information, gesturing with his hand towards the plane that appeared to be readying for take off.

“It’s a romantic getaway! I already had someone break into your apartment and pack for you. I realized you were right and we do need to do more romantic stuff and I need to make more of an effort for you. So, here I am. Being romantic and kidnapping you!”

Tony grins, so bright and beautiful that Steve doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’s doing absolutely everything wrong. Because it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because Steve loved Tony Stark and nothing else mattered.

 

It didn’t matter that he was about to miss a whole bunch of work, or that the mafia broke into his apartment and kidnapped him, and it didn’t matter that Tony was batshit crazy and it didn’t matter that they were possibly the most dysfunctional pair of people ever. It didn’t matter because Steve loved Tony.

 

They clink drinks, and the plane takes off. Steve doesn’t bother to ask where they’re going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> r we ready for some fluss next chapter bc same :))) my boys deserve some love
> 
>  
> 
> this fic is meant to be a super chill, just for fun kind of fic really. I enjoy writing in sort of whatver i want so sorry if tis unrealistic of plot hole-y, bc i jus dont care lol. hope u enjoy, also i didnt proof read this at all so its crap sorry xxx


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